Black's Magic

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Siren Publishing, Inc. www.sirenpub.com Copyright ©2007 by Cynthia Rayne First published in 2007, 2007 NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

Black's Magic Sorcerer Rowena Black tracks down dangerous warlocks and extinguishes their powers. She is determined to capture her father's murderer, warlock Damien Rochester, the leader of the Coven reputed to practice magical and sexual perversions. Vayne Thorne, a member of the Coven, is beginning to lose his taste for violence. While in a magical duel with Rowena, she scars his handsome face. Fascinated by her, Vayne intends to make her his slave. In a desperate attempt to infiltrate the Coven, Rowena allows herself to be captured. Damien Rochester gives her to both Vayne and his rival Galen Sinclair, the Coven's apothecary, as their sexual servant. Caught between the two warlocks as their obsession with her grows, Rowena experiences pleasures she never knew existed. As she falls in love with one man, Rowena fights against temptation as she tries to complete her mission—to bring down the Coven once and for all.

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BLACK'S MAGIC Cynthia Rayne EROTIC ROMANCE ****

**** Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

ABOUT THIS E-BOOK:Your purchase of this e-book allows you toone LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It isILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance BLACK'S MAGIC Copyright © 2007 by Cynthia Rayne ISBN-10: 1-933563-71-0 First Electronic Publication: June 2007

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Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. PUBLISHER: Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

BLACK'S MAGIC CYNTHIA RAYNE Copyright © 2007 Chapter 1 London, England Present "Stop grinding against me,” Rowena Black growled. Most of the time when she straddled a man, it had a pleasurable purpose, but she had a leg on either side of Cedric Edwards for work. She drew her wand from the holster at her hip and waved it in his face. That stopped his gyrations. She tried to keep her focus on the young warlock, but the stench of garbage and urine assailed her nostrils. She hated to fight in darkened alleyways, but exposure to mortals had to be kept to a minimum. Rowena coughed into the back of her gloved hand before gripping his throat once more. "Get off me, bitch!" She squeezed his throat tighter. Cedric had hardly been a threat, but she always neutralized warlocks when she came upon them, even the neophyte ones. “Not bloody likely. What brings you out on the night of a full moon? Dark ritual? Maybe a moonlight serenade?" "I'm not telling you anything, but if you'd like to shag, I'd be happy to oblige,” he said hoarsely. Rowena smirked as she loosened her grip on his throat. “By the feel of things, you could scarcely do me justice. If you're not going to talk to me, I'll take your powers and be on my way, and you'll be a magical eunuch." "No! Don't! Please don't take my magic. I'll tell you everything I know."

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"Which is what?" "I'm here with Thorne. We were practicing hexes." Thorne. Rowena was well acquainted with him. “So, he's your master warlock?” Young warlocks were often apprenticed to older ones in order to learn their wicked craft. Rowena had all that she needed from the boy. “Thanks. I'll just neutralize you and I'll be on my way." "Wait! I know a lot of about Rochester, too." "You're a loyal one, aren't you?” Rowena shrugged. No honor among thieves, she supposed. “Whatdo you know? How to kiss his ass? No thanks.I know more about the inner workings of the Coven than you." "I can tell you—" "Nothing." "But you said that you wouldn't—" "No, youassumed that I wouldn't take your powers." Rowena summoned the magic within and she could feel it rise to her call, as ancient and sure as an ocean tide. She imagined it gathering in her chest, a glowing ball of glistening energy. When it had fully formed, she forced it up her arm and out of the tip of her wand. Her power slammed into the warlock beneath her and yoked his magic. "Seize!” she whispered and the spell obeyed, pulling the magic from his body in one long, swirling arc. Cedric shut his eyes, drained by the loss of energy as the cloud of magic spilled from his throat. Rowena didn't pay attention to the boy. She stared at the magical, whirling vortex in front of her, a burning black cloud of fury that smelled faintly of sulfur. She watched it spin between them with heated eyes. It called to her on some level, wanting to be consumed instead of released. As a sorcerer, she tracked down and neutralized warlocks, but in order to do the job, she had to practice magic that fell somewhere in between black and white. The more black magic she practiced, the more she craved. She almost sympathized with warlocks, because the dark arts were extremely powerful and quite addictive. Almost. It was no wonder why the majority of them were controlled by their own desires. With resignation, she flung the cloud away from her and it dissipated into the wind, joining all of the stray magic that roamed the world. "Well, if it isn't Rowena Black." Rowena would know that voice anywhere. Vayne Thorne, one of the Coven's inner sanctum. He was sex on a stick, well, sex on a broomstick to be metaphorical—pity that he exuded pure evil, from the chill of his brilliant blue eyes to the supple leather that covered his sinewy legs. She looked up to see him standing between two crumbling gargoyles, illuminated by the full harvest

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moon. Vayne dropped down from his perch on top of the apartment building and hurtled to the ground, his long blond hair spilling from the queue at the nape of his neck and fanning around his face like a silver cloud. He stopped only two feet from the pavement, hovering for a moment before lightly touching down in front of her. "Show off,” she muttered. Vayne flashed a smile. “I've always loved a good entrance." Rowena turned to face him, wand still in hand. Poor Cedric was out of commission. “What brings you here? Slumming?" "No, actually Cedric is, wellwas , my new apprentice,” Vayne said, regarding the other warlock with an annoyed expression. He leaned over the young man and slapped his cheek, but the boy's head merely rolled to the side. Cedric was out cold. "And what did you do with his magic?" "Gone, I'm afraid, tossed to the wind." "Pity.” Vayne rolled the boy onto his back with the toe of his black leather boot. Then, he sprinkled a bit of blue fairy dust all over Cedric, liberally coating him as though he were spicing a steak. One Latin incantation later, and the boy disappeared, taken to Coven headquarters presumably. "Yes, it is a pity. I guess you'll have to find someone else to corrupt." With the boy gone, Vayne turned his attention to her. They circled each other as they spoke, two wary predators sizing up an opponent. "Like you?” He raised one silvery brow. His face was angular and his jaw was prominent. In short, he was lickable. Seemed a shame he was evil. Rowena knew she could scratch a sexual itch with Vayne, but she'd never slept with the enemy and wasn't about to now. “Are you trying to hit on me?" "Yes, and I'm succeeding." Rowena forced a yawn. “I'm bored. Can we fight?" "I didn't know you had a death wish, Rowena." "That's an idle threat and we both know it.” They were old adversaries, but well matched in magical abilities. A stalemate had always been the end result. "Probably, but let's mix it up a bit. Let's try a bit of hand-to-hand. I want to cop a feel while I thrash you.” He raked his eyes over her. “You're built the way I like my women. Big breasts and rounded hips. Throw in that jet black hair of yours and I'm ready to mount you right here." "You wish.” Rowena shrugged off her leather duster and tossed it across the top of the rickety fence behind her before pulling the athame from her boot.

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The blade glinted in the moonlight, the Celtic cross blazing on the handle. It felt good in her hand, as though the athame had been fashioned only for her, yet it had been handed down across the generations in her family. She knew that one day soon she'd use the blade to kill Rochester. Vayne came at her unarmed and she tried to push the blade into his belly, but he grasped her arm and brought it down across his knee, forcing her to drop it. The athame clattered to the ground and when she reached for it, he pulled her arm behind her back. Vayne pressed his mouth against her ear, his voice husky. “I'm going to shag you right here, Rowena. Tell me you want that." The words had the desired effect on her body. She wished he'd get over the whole bad boy thing and join her side. She'd consider making it worth his while, shag him senseless until she grew bored with him and she always grew bored with them eventually. She didn't dare give voice to her desires because she needed to keep her wits about her. “Not in this lifetime, Thorne." Vayne approached her, invading her space. “Are you sure about that?" He smelled of sage and other herbs that she couldn't recognize. He'd been spell-casting tonight, something wicked.That brought her back to her senses. "Positive. We're fighting, Vayne, not screwing.” She used the heel of her other hand to hit the underside of his nose. She heard the bone crunch as her hand made contact, causing blood to pour freely down his handsome face. Vayne released her with a muttered curse. He wiped at the blood with the back of his gloved had. “Do you maim all of your lovers?" "Only the ones I'm trying to kill.” She kicked him in the shin, before sweeping her leg across his chest. Turned on and pissed off at the same time, Rowena gasped for breath. The whole fight was undignified. They should have been using their wands like civilized people, instead of hitting each other like two children in a schoolyard fight. When he bent over, caught between nursing his injured nose and shin, she planted her foot square in the middle of his chest. Vayne fell to the ground, landing on his back with a thud. "Bloody hell! I've had enough of this!” He swept a leg under hers, and she landed on top of his prone body. He quickly situated her hips over his. Merlin help me!This was the second warlock of the night that had been between her legs and not in a fun way! She tried to get up, but he held onto her hips. “Let's call it an impasse and move on, Thorne." "Hardly.” Vayne bucked his hips. “I've got you where I want you. Well,almost where I want you. Be a dear and take off those jeans." "Why? You're in no shape to perform.” She tried to get up again, but he held her in a viselike grip with his hard arousal nestled between her thighs. She couldn't help but rock against him, making them both moan. He rolled them over so he was on top and pinned her between his cock and the sticky cement. Out of

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the corner of her eye, she noted that the athame was in reach, just beside their prone bodies. "You know, when I pictured bonking you, it wasn't in a filthy alley but I'll take you anyway way I can get you." "Funny. I haven't thought about it all,” she lied. Rowena grasped the blade, while he ogled her breasts, which were perilously close to popping free of her ripped t-shirt. The poor bastard failed to pay attention to her movements. “I'm going to make you beg for me." She should have stuck the athame between his ribs, but she didn't. Couldn't. It was a blessed blade, so it would have been fatal, and somehow she couldn't bear the thought of killing him. Not like that. He deserved a good death. Rochester, on the other hand, she would stab in the street. He deserved to rot in an alleyway. Instead of killing Vayne, she scratched the athame across his face, where it would leave a jagged scar on his left cheek, a reminder of his close call. Because the athame had been consecrated for magical use, it would leave a permanent scar. Vayne let go of her then, clutching his face in agony as she scrambled away from him. “Bitch! What did you do to me?!" "Thought I'd give you something to remember me by.” With a wave of her wand, she escaped into the night, teleporting home. Rowena wasn't sure why she marked him, exactly. Perhaps on some level, because she couldn't have him as a lover, she wanted to lay claim to him.. He was the enemy and, therefore, off limits. She should have remembered that. **** Luna Café, London Two Weeks Later "You need to be more cautious, Rowena. As do I, what if I have been followed here?" "You worry too much, Merrick. Learn to live a little. Carpe diem and all of that,” she replied, before she took a bite of her dilled salmon. She'd learned long ago to ignore his exaggerated sense of caution. Merrick Fellows was her contact with the Alliance and he was usually worried about something, the price of toadstools, the build up of fairy dust in the atmosphere, and warlocks, of course. The café around them was crammed full of mortals on their lunch breaks who had no idea that supernatural beings walked among them. They were all blissfully ignorant of the dangerous games afoot. Rowena envied them on some level. It would be nice to go to bed each night not having to worry about the fate of the world. Although, ignorance was hardly ever blissful, actually it was quite often fatal. "No,you don't worry enough. The stunt you just pulled will probably end up costing you. All of us, actually. Thorne isn't your average warlock, Rowena. He's connected to the inner circle of the Coven."

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She rolled her eyes. “He isn't one of the Founders, but he's connected. That should be worth a promotion, or at least a raise. Frankly, I don't think he's all that powerful. He didn't put up much of a fight.” She would have captured him, too, if he hadn't tried to molest her. "Youare a very clever sorcerer, Rowena, but you aren't invulnerable,” Merrick said harshly. “Hubris has always been your downfall. One day it will get you killed." It was an old argument. She had been apprenticed to Merrick as a young sorcerer and he had always chided her for her lack of caution. “I know that, but I'm very good at my job.” She'd captured and extinguished the powers of hundreds of warlocks all on her own. "You are very good at what you do, but all it takes is one hex. Just one! Warlocks are dodgy and should be treated with at least a scrap of prudence." "You're forgetting one thing, Merrick." "What's that?" Rowena grinned. “I'm a bit dodgy, too." "This is no time for jokes!” Merrick leaned forward. “We've heard from some of our informants that Thorne is out for revenge. You humiliated him." "Informants?” She nearly spit out her salmon. “Merrick, you know that their information is always questionable. They're only low level turncoats who'll say anything to avoid losing their magic." "The Alliance believes the information we've received is accurate. We've heard it from at least two different sources.” Merrick cleared his throat. “It is rumored that Thorne wants to put you in your place." The Alliance was a consortium of leaders in the witch community. They worked in secret to train sorcerers to hunt and extinguish the powers of warlocks throughout the world. Magic had gone further underground since The Burning Times in Europe when warlocks and witches alike were burned at the stake at the hands of the Inquisition. "I expected that, Merrick. I embarrassed him. Of course he wants to kill me.” She added a little salt to her salmon to cut the buttery taste. Witches were strictly vegetarian, as a rule but she'd developed a taste for fish and chicken since becoming a sorcerer. "No, we have reports that there is a capture order on you, Rowena. Not a kill order. Thorne wants you very much alive." Thatwas a piece of bad news. In the magical world, there were punishments far worse than death. The food in her mouth suddenly tasted like ashes, but she forced herself to swallow it before she pushed away the plate. Rowena never showed weakness to another. "Why? What is he planning?” she leaned forward and her bloodless fingertips gripped the table. "He wants to make you, uh, that is ... he wants to enslave you.” Merrick pulled at the collar of his starched cotton shirt. She imagined he found the topic of slavery much too unseemly to discuss with a young woman such as

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herself ."Thorne wants me to be his slave? Like a servant?” Merrick was acting far too uncomfortable for slavery alone to be an issue. "No, Rowena, he wants you to be another sort of slave altogether.” His voice had lowered to an agonized whisper. “A pleasure slave." "A pleasure slave?” Rowena repeated, recoiling at the very idea. It was said that members of the Coven sometimes enslaved witches after their powers had been absorbed. There had been reports that these slaves were used as sexual playthings. "Yes,” Merrick said stiffly. "But why? We're enemies. I know that there is a sexual undercurrent, but it's all talk. Thorne just wants to throw me off my game." "I'd wager he wants to disgrace you for standing up to him." "I see.” Her mind raced as she tried to process what she'd just heard. "I'm bringing this information to you, Rowena, because we ... well,my superiors feel that this a unique opportunity for us to infiltrate the Coven." Merrick and Rowena had never been on the same page—they probably weren't even reading the same book. He was an excellent sorcerer, but he was far too wary. That's why he hadn't risen far in the Alliance; he wasn't willing to take a few risks. She knew him fairly well and sensed that he had prepared her for a blow. "What is it? Just tell me, Merrick." "We've wanted someone on in the inside for a while now. A mole, if you will. We need to learn their identities and once we have that information, we can break them. Secrecy is their ultimate weapon.” He took a deep, fortifying breath. “The Alliance has decided that Thorne should be allowed to capture you." "What?" "You are going to be Thorne's pleasure pet." "Have you all gone quite insane?” she asked, her voice rising sharply. Several patrons stared at them, and she grudgingly lowered the volume. “This is ridiculous!” she hissed. The woman at the next table glared at them both for good measure, before turning back to her cell phone. She kept flipping her cell phone open and shut as she tried to place a call. Magical beings often played havoc with modern conveniences. "I agree." "Then why are you here talking nonsense?" "Because Rochester is poised to take over the mortal globe. He has a stranglehold on parliament, and now he has moved a puppet leader into the race for prime minister. They've clearly taken a leave of their

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senses, but at least let me explain the plan,” Merrick said gently. “Then you can decide what you will do." Rowena sat back in the chair and folded her arms across her chest. “By all means, proceed, but I'm not agreeing to anything." Rowena couldn't have been more wrong, or more foolish.

Chapter 2 Stonehenge, England All Hallow's Eve. The pull of magic in the air was palpable. On this very potent magical night the barriers between the world of the living and the world of the dead were opened, allowing them both to mingle. A wave of regret swept over Rowena when she realized this would be the very last night she would ever feel the lure of magic. As soon as her magic had been absorbed, she would be as defenseless as any mortal. Rowena would still have a longer life span and the ability to brew potions, but she wouldn't be able to cast spells. It was a lot to give up, but she had somehow made peace with it. She had set herself on a path and she would not yield from it. Determined to be the sorcerer who took down the Coven, Rowena didn't even think of backing down. Surely, sacrificing her magic wasn't too big of a price to safeguard the witches of the world and to avenge her father's death. She turned her attention back to the thick stones in front of her, all arranged in a mysterious pattern that had baffled mortals since the beginning of recorded history. While Stonehenge puzzled the mortal world, the magical world had used it for centuries. The structure called to the four elements: fire, earth, air, and water and the placing of the stones was a perfect conduit, causing the elements to converge in one area. Stepping into the center of the circle brought a magical being a great surge of power. The center was lit by torches embedded in the earth. This place held ferocious power, the kind that couldn't be harnessed without paying a price. That power penetrated the soles of her feet, humming under her skin. It was heady, seductive and oh-so-wrong. She watched the Coven as they entered the stones but only recognized one face. Damien Rochester. Rowena's jaw tightened as she watched him enter the circle. Every time they met, she got closer to killing him. She silently prayed that tonight was the night she would finally attain her goal. The rest of the warlocks were probably recent initiates brought in to get their hands bloody. Every year, the Coven sacrificed a young virgin to enhance their union. They planned to sacrifice the girl to a demon in exchange for protection. The Coven wore long crimson ceremonial robes—the color of freshly spilled blood. Their faces were boldly uncovered, because they know held more powerful positions in society. They formed a tight circle around the young woman. Rochester stood in the center of the circle, next to the victim. The warlocks tied the unresisting young girl to a slab in the very center of the structure. She was probably fourteen or fifteen, judging by her appearance and it was obvious that she had been drugged, but it wasn't to lessen her suffering. They had done it to subdue her so they could slice her skin in a strategic pattern.

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Rowena had cloaked herself in an invisibility spell and stood just behind the warlocks. They couldn't detect her because of all the stray magic in the air—All Hallow's Eve was both a boon and a disadvantage to the warlocks. The Alliance routinely attacked the Coven on this night, in order to stop the sacrifice. Tonight was no different. She shifted, drawing her wand from the back pocket of her tight leather pants. Normally, Rochester wouldn't have deigned to come to a ritual as mundane as this. Tonight must be more auspicious than she had realized. The Alliance had been thwarted before by their magical barriers that blocked good magic from entering Stonehenge. They had tainted the ancient circle with their blood magic decades ago. Luckily, she had gotten to the sight at dawn, before the barriers were set.The early bird gets to kill the worm . She had often thought that they were fighting a losing battle. The Coven was willing to murder for power while the Alliance weren't. How could the Alliance hope to win a war against an opponent who cared nothing for life? But then her father had taught her that some fights are worth fighting, even if she lost in the end—although, Rowena had no intention of losing. Twelve warlocks stood around Rochester—a perfect coven of thirteen males. She knew right away that these weren't members of the inner sanctum. They might be growing bolder, but they would never risk a full meeting out in the open. Rochester disrobed and his followers did the same. Like many rituals, the sacrifice had to be performed sky clad or naked. It was a sign to the deity being worshipped that the spell caster was honest or truthful. She found that amusing, because the word warlock literally meant oath breaker in archaic English. She kept her gaze firmly focused on their faces as Rochester raised his hands to the sky. "Touch of darkness. Touch of night. The blood spilled is yours by right. We offer this girl—innocent, virginal, and light. Satisfy your hunger. Come to this site." She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat as Rochester sliced through the white cotton shift the girl wore. He bared her pale skin to the moonlight before bringing the dagger to her breasts and trailing it between them. “You won't die in vain, mortal. Your blood will nourish the demon and bring us great—" That was Rowena's cue. "She won't die in vain? And here I thought she was about to be murdered so you cowards could get a little power boost." The air shimmered around her as her as she became visible. Her wand was at the ready. Rochester's eyes widened, but he covered his alarm quickly. He was an older wizard, probably a hundred and forty or fifty and his hair was still black and long, falling around his face in waves. Rowena found his dark eyes disturbing. They were black and bottomless, like two gaping holes in his face. As terrifying as his eyes seemed, she didn't allow herself to look lower than that. She had no desire to see him naked. That would have been truly horrifying.

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"Well, if it isn't little Rowena.” He smirked. “Hello, poppet." Rowena really hated that moniker. She knew that he wanted to make her feel unworthy, like a child out of her depth. "Rochester,” she said through gritted teeth. "What brings you here?" Somehow, she found his civility to be more disconcerting than anger. “Haven't you heard? There's a national holiday today. It's Thrash Your Father's Murderer Day." His eyes flared. Ah, there's the anger. That's much, much better. "I really should have waited ‘round until you got home from school that day, poppet. I could have added another headstone to your family graveyard." She trembled with rage, a rage so thick it kicked her adrenaline into overdrive. Her fingers shook from the urge to use her wand, but she held back. “Well, we all have regrets, don't we? Speaking of your regrets, I've got another one for you.” She aimed the wand at the young woman. “I call the sun, by light of the moon. Shine down. Protect her now." The air glowed around the girl as it enveloped her in a protective energy field that only good magic could cross. Rowena had just saved her life. Her colleagues were on their way and they would make sure that she was returned to her family and her memory altered. The girl would sleep peacefully tonight, unaware of warlocks and witches. Rowena turned her attention to Rochester. “Well, my work here is done. I saved the girl.” She tucked her wand in the holster at her waist and dusted her hands off. “It's a bit anti-climatic, really." Rochester appeared to be unconcerned. “I wouldn't congratulate myself too much if I were you. This is the first girl the Alliance saved, but there's always another girl—like you, for instance. He cast a glance in the shadows beyond the fire lit stones as though he expected a legion of sorcerers to appear. “Where are your brothers and sisters in arms, poppet? I know that the Alliance is far too afraid of us to attack alone." By design, she had arrived alone. This wasn't about rescue, it was about revenge. "I didn't really feel the need to involve any one else. I figured I could take on the lot of you without too much fuss,” she bragged. There was an angry murmur in the air, sibilant voices full of fury and ghastly desires. Rochester's own expression was livid. "Seeing as how I'm here now, why not step on up and give me a go?” Rowena said, pressing her luck further. “I always did enjoy a good laugh." "Arrogant little bitch, aren't you?” Rochester withdrew his wand, circling her. “You remind me a great deal of your father."

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At last. Rowena withdrew her wand. “Thanks for the compliment!" Rochester's smile could make paint peel. “Hewas boastful too, but he ended up begging for his life at my feet. Frankly, I've never seen such a spineless display of abject fear." Then, he blasted her with his wand, sending Rowena crashing into the stones at her back. A sharp pain flared in her side, and she slumped down to the ground with an anguished cry. She thought she might have snapped one of her ribs. "I must say that I'm looking forward to a repeat performance." "You're lying. My father never begged and I won't either.” Rowena managed to get to her feet, but the pain was excruciating. “Besides, I'm not being arrogant if I can back it up.” She hit him with a surge of energy from her wand, sending him against one of the other slabs of stone. That's when they all began to close in on her. She was outnumbered. His followers stalked closer, wands aimed at her chest. It would have been even more threatening if they weren't naked. If she hadn't been so upset, she would have found the situation funny. "Don't touch her! I have plans for the little bitch!” Rochester fumed, as he got to his feet. "Is there a chill in the air?” Rowena asked pointedly, staring downward. “Or does dark magic take a toll on your manhood?" Another collective hiss sounded from the mob. Rochester dusted himself off. “I've had enough. You need to be taught some manners, poppet.” He stared at his hand and a swirling ball of fire formed. It rotated in his palm, gaining speed and energy, a thing of malevolent beauty. Harnessing fire was an impressive power, even more so when Rochester flung it at her. Rowena fell to the ground and the fireball arced over her head, landing in the grass behind her and igniting it. She jumped to her feet as he tossed another one, but it only singed the end of her hair as she ran. She reached the other side of the stones and hid behind one, her breath coming in panicked puffs of air. She felt like her heart would explode from her chest. That had been far too close. "Where's your bravery now, poppet?” Rochester crowed. His followers laughed. Another fire ball hit the stone and splattered, sending a shower of sparks shooting over the ancient monoliths and Rowena frantically put out the flames with her hands, hissing as they singed her skin. Fear quickly turned to anger. Every instinct she possessed urged her to attack him. Rowena retrieved her athame from her boot. She wanted Rochester's blood. She wanted to kill him, but that's not what sorcerers do. They apprehended warlocks and tried their best to rehabilitate them, but at this moment she didn't give a bloody damn about any of that. Not when it came to Rochester. She wanted to hear him plead and scream for mercy, but she planned to show him as much as he'd shown her father, Richard Black.

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Victory would come later. Now was the time for surrender . Just. Let. Go. "I give in!” she gasped, cringing at the words so alien to her nature. She forced herself to walk slowly out from behind the stones with her hands in the air. It took all of her willpower not to wrap them around Rochester's throat. Rochester watched her with greedy eyes, bloodlust burning in them. What if she'd miscalculated? Surely, he wouldn't kill her. She was too big of a prize. "Let's sacrifice her, Sire,” one of the initiates suggested. “Her death will bring us power." Any moment, the demon would arrive and demand his due. She sincerely hoped she hadn't saved the girl only to take her place. Being eaten by a demon was a hard way to go. She'd much rather be taken out by a wand. "No, death is too kind a fate for this one.” Rochester turned to see her reaction. “Besides, she isn't a fit sacrifice for the demon. She isn't a virgin. Isn't that right, poppet?" "Well, I wasn't saving myself for you." "I have something far more appropriate in mind. Consume!” Rochester hit her with a power sucking spell, and she crumpled to the ground. She could literally feel the magic being pulled from every pore, every cell of her body. She didn't give Rochester the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but the effort it took to remain silent was monumental. It was as if someone was slowly wrenching her soul from her body. When it was over, she lay prone on the grass, nearly insensate to anything but the pain of it all. She was bleeding inside, her magic ripped from her core. Was this what she had inflicted on warlocks? It was unbearable. Her magic, her heritage—all gone in a few seconds. Rochester stood over her and his wand glowed red as he spoke some ancient language, primordial and immoral. His wand blazed as it began transferring the energy to himself, pooling it in his body. But she didn't cry or scream. Instead, far from being humbled, she lay there and returned his gaze levelly, jaw clenched, hatred burning in her eyes.. When it was over, Rochester deliberately stepped on her wand, breaking it in two. She cried out at the loss, in many ways more painful than losing her ability to cast spells. Her father had fashioned it for her from an oak tree in the glen. She would never be able to use it again. Gone forever. Just like her magic. Just like her father. Rochester grasped her chin in his hand. “Was it good for you, poppet?" Rowena spit in his face. His fist came down on the back of her head and the world faded to black.

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Chapter 3 Strongholde Castle, Scotland One week later When Galen Sinclair entered the infirmary, he found her where he had left her, chained by her ankle to the small cot. Judging by Rowena Black's expression, Galen was grateful the cot had been bolted to the floor, because he had no doubt she would have hurled it at him. "How are you feeling today?" "How do you think?” she snapped. She wore a thin white hospital gown and paced the floor like a caged panther, sleek and dangerous. Even though her powers had been taken, Rowena was still a formidable adversary. "Yes, it appears your mood has not improved, but I need to examine your injuries." "Fine.” She untied the knot at the nape of her neck and let her gown fall to her feet. She kept her hands at her sides, but her expression was mocking, as though she knew the effect it had on him. Galen sucked in a breath at the sight of her. She'd been with him for days and he was intimately acquainted with her body, but not as familiar as he'd like to be. "Very good,” he said hoarsely. “Let me see your hip.” He tried to keep his touch professional as he examined the purple burn mark on her snowy white hip, but it proved to be difficult. “That's healing nicely." Galen tried to ignore her pubis, which was covered with a thick thatch of black hair, but it was impossible. He imagined how lovely she would look, shaved and smooth. He couldn't wait to open her legs and gaze at her soft pink pussy. He imagined that it would be as delicate and pink as her nipples. Galen cleared his throat. “Now, let's examine the welts on your torso.” He removed the bandages and checked to make sure the cuts and abrasions weren't infected. When he glanced at her face, he saw gallows humor in her eyes. “Are you planning onexamining me with your cock next?" "Remember your place,” he admonished. “You are a prisoner and a slave.” Rowena had been enslaved and he would not tolerate disobedience. During his tenure with the Coven, he'd found that he enjoyed submissive women, at least in the bedroom. He loved controlling the situation, bringing them exquisite pleasure in the process. "I might have been captured, but I'm no one's slave!” she said fiercely. "Is that so?" Her chin raised a notch. “Yes." Galen seized her and pulled her against his chest. He held her immobile in his grasp, her back pressed against his front. His erection pulsed against her arse, eager and hungry for a taste.

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"Let me go!” She tried to jam her elbow in his side, but he held her immobile with his greater strength. "Not until I prove my point.” The chain around her ankle rattled as he frog marched her to the mirror over the sink, so she could see her own reflection. “Look at yourself. You were made to be a pleasure slave." Rowena gazed at herself and then met his eyes in the mirror. Galen let her see the full measure of his desire, willed her to see herself through his eyes. She was a lovely creature, made for pleasure. It was time she realized that. "Let me show you,” he rasped in her ear. He was unable to keep his hands off her any longer. Her breasts were glorious, full and round and sat high on her chest. The nipples were large and pink, perfect for sucking. Galen pinched one of her nipples and her breath hissed from between her teeth. He gently rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you like that? Tell me the truth." "Yes,” she bit out. "Good girl.” He gave her another nipple the same attention. Then, he squeezed it, not too hard, just to add another dimension to her pleasure. Sometimes a small amount of pain made the pleasure all that much sweeter. Rowena moaned in response to that. He only had one arm wrapped securely around her waist, but she didn't try to escape him. Instead, she clutched at his hand. "Do you like that, Rowena?" "Yes,” she sighed. "Yes, what?" "I'm not calling you master!” she snarled, tugging at his hands. "Soon enough you will. Put your hands on the sink and spread your legs. I want your arse in the air." Rowena's hands shook as she hesitantly placed them on the porcelain sink, but she did as he bade. Galen ran hands down her body, relishing her soft, supple skin. He put his feet between her legs and pushed her legs apart even wider. He wanted to lift his sterile white robe and sink his cock deep inside her. He longed to feel her around him, enveloping his stiff flesh in her welcoming, wet heat. He needed to fuck her senseless until she begged and pleaded with him for rest. Unfortunately, now was not the time. For now, he'd have to content himself with making her come with his fingers. Galen pushed inside of her sweet quim and groaned at how tight she was. He couldn't resist pumping his fingers in and out in a

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furious rhythm. With his other hand, he played with her clitoris, pinching it and causing her hips to buck. "Do you want me, slave?" "N-no!” Her body belied her words. Rowena was wet, the delicate folds within slick with her arousal. "Doyou want me? Tell me, or I'll stop!” He growled. "Yes! Damn you, yes!” she cried. Her hands gripped the sink, her knuckles white. “Please!” With a wail, she came. Galen splashed some cold water from the sink on his face and willed his erection down, but soon he would have his chance with her. Rowena was too delicious to pass up. Galen wanted her desperately and he was going to have her. Nothing and no one would stand in his way. **** Vayne Thorne drained his glass of whiskey. Unfortunately, it would take a lot more than that to dull the pain of being near Rochester. He hated these little summonses to Strongholde Castle. He watched Damien Rochester torment Rowena for his own amusement. Her body had been bared for all to see and she knelt on an oriental rug at Rochester's feet. Rowena was a sorcerer and should have been treated with a modicum of dignity. It was a disgrace to display her before all of them like a common trollop. Yet, Vayne couldn't help but physically respond to the site of her splayed legs and luscious bottom on display. He could hardly wait to get her home. He'd had fantasies about Rowena for years. Rochester had all but promised Vayne that he could own her, although he doubted that anyone could truly own her, she had an unbeatable spirit. Sinclair had been avidly watching the girl's every movement. It was evident that he'd developed an interest in her while she was in his care. Rochester had oh-so-casually mentioned that he'd received Sinclair's petition for Rowena. Lately, Vayne had begun to suspect that Rochester doubted his loyalty to him, proving that he wasn't a complete fool. Vayne had often thought about wresting control from Rochester, but something held him back. Being a member of the Coven didn't have as much appeal as it once had. Vayne grew bored with their schemes and their politics. They actually wanted to gain control of mortal society. Unthinkable. "Whatever shall I do with you, poppet?” Rochester asked. She opened her eyes briefly. “Please don't kill me, master." "Are you certain that is what you want?” he asked, delighted. Rochester had murdered her father and now the girl begged for her life at his feet. His face was flushed with perverse pleasure. “I seem to recall you telling me that you'd never beg." "I—I was wrong, master,” she said, eyes still downcast. She'd hesitated over the words though. Had it galled her to say them? Had some spark survived the brutal torture she'd endured? It looked that way. Excellent. Vayne didn't want a passive pet, he wanted Rowena in top form, spitting and hissing as he

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took her. He bet she would be a little hellcat in bed. Rochester mulled it over or pretended to. “I shall allow you to live, then, poppet, but only because I am a generous man." Rowena sighed, her body nearly going slack with relief. Her life was the only thing she thought she had left to lose. "Tell me how grateful you are." Again, another hesitation. Obviously, Rochester irritated her. That was something that they had in common. “Thank you, master, for sparing my life." "My pleasure. Actuallyour pleasure.” Rochester paused for added effect. He sounded like the host of a particularly kinky mortal game show. “I'm going to give you to one of these men, poppet. You are going to be a pleasure pet for them, aren't you?” He threaded his fingers through her hair and roughly pulled her towards him. “Aren't you?" "Yes, master,” she whispered. The dear girl looked a little green around the gills at that news. "One of these warlocks will own you. You will be theirs to do with as they please. And you'll be fucked by him every day. He'll show you your true place." Rowena quivered. Rochester licked his lips, clearly enjoying his victory over her. Vayne had been surprised that Rochester didn't want her for himself, but he'd said he wasn't interested. He wondered if Rochester was secretly afraid of the girl. She'd come close to beating him quite a few times. Even if he did have her luscious little body at his mercy, he'd probably never get up enough of an erection to do her pussy justice. Rochester let go of her hair and she fell to her hands and knees again. “Two of you have placed your petition for her—Sinclair and Thorne. Do either of you wish to withdraw your petition?" Vayne didn't give a damn that Sinclair had petitioned for her. He couldn't have her. Rowena Black was his. He'd paid for the right in blood. Vayne touched the scar on his face. The bitch had disfigured him permanently and ruined his handsome face forever. He couldn't let that go unpunished. Besides, Sinclair didn't know Rowena, not like Vayne did. He knew her the way only an enemy could. She was cunning, quick-witted. Only the fiercest of warlocks would be able to keep up with her. The bloody bastard would have no idea what to do with the little hellcat. Vayne stared at Sinclair, but he refused to withdraw his request. "Come now, gentlemen. One should know when to retire from the field.” Rochester looked pointedly at Sinclair, who only stared back with a mulish expression. Galen might have asked for her on a whim, but this was no impulse for Vayne. He'd wanted her for years and she was almost within his grasp. He'd wanted her long before she injured him. The idea of making Rowena Black beg at his feet was too delectable to pass up. He needed to make her his. She

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was too proud. She needed to be put in her place. The high priest of the Coven smiled.. “This is quite the dilemma, gentlemen.” He looked down at Rowena. “Perhaps I should slice her down the middle and offer each of you a half?" Rowena shuddered. “Please, no, master." "Silence, poppet. I am deciding your fate." Sinclair took a step forward but didn't say anything. Vayne gritted his teeth. It wouldn't be long now and Rochester wouldn't be an issue anymore. Rochester sighed. “But that's a little boring, isn't it?” He tapped his chin. He had all but promised him. Why was he suddenly backing down? Vayne began to speak. “Sire, I—" "I think a compromise is in order.” He looked down at Rowena. “I want you to be totally debased. Belonging to one man is far too kind a fate for you. I want you to be communal property. You will be used by any warlock who wants you." Rowena shivered. "We shall start with these two." Sinclair and Vayne both scowled at each other before turning enraged faces on Rochester, who seemed oblivious to their anger. "Sire, I think this is most unusual.” Sharing a slavewas unusual. As a rule, warlocks didn't shareanything . Warlocks didn't play well with others. If they did, they would have remained witches. "Yes, well, this is an unusual pet, don't you agree, gentlemen?" "Of course she is,” Sinclair agreed. “But the logistics of this arrangement would be most troublesome. I'm sure that—" "Nonsense. I am going to reward you both for your faithful service. You will share her. I think you should switch every other day, that way she will not get too comfortable in either setting." Vayne and Sinclair nodded and mumbled something that sounded like gratitude, even if it wasn't. Bastard,Vayne seethed. He wasn't sure which bastard he was most angry with, Rochester or Sinclair. Sinclair had managed to completely ruin his revenge. Although he tried to hide it, Vayne could see the displeasure in the set of his jaw and the tightening of his hands into fists. Good. They were both angry. "Let's see,” Rochester said, staring down at the girl. “Who shall have you first?" Vayne held his breath, anticipation made the time seem greater. "You will be going home with the apothecary first, poppet.” He spoke to her, but he looked at Sinclair.

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Sinclair had triumph in his eyes. Not only had he stolen part of her ownership, he would he be the first to fuck her. Bloody. Everlasting. Hell.

Chapter 4 Galen Sinclair's Apartment London, England With a flick of his wand, Sinclair had unceremoniously deposited Rowena in his home. In a moment of weakness, she had frantically tried to escape his apartment, but it was a foolish attempt. The doors and windows were magically locked and the phone had password recognition. No computer in sight. She was effectively contained, awaiting his pleasure. With resignation, she walked through his apartment, running her fingers over the furniture, looking for clues to his personality, looking for clues as to what the Coven was up to. The apartment had a modern feel to it, sleek lines and chrome accents. Barren. Clean. She searched his desk drawer and the library, but found nothing about the Coven's plans. It made sense to her. Sinclair healed their members. He wasn't a warrior and probably had no idea about the various plots they hatched. Rowena didn't know what to with herself. She was a woman of action and led an active life. The dull void of servitude held no appeal. She usually spent her days spying on wizards and stealing their powers. Puttering around Sinclair's apartment was unbearable. She hardly recognized herself, anyway. Rowena felt as though she were slowly slipping away. I am Rowena Black. I am Rowena Black.Rowena repeated this assertion every day, in the safety of her own mind, the only place she had any privacy now. She had been laid bare by her captors both literally and figuratively. She couldn't quite recall how long she'd been captive. Days? Weeks? Years? The endless hours she had spent in the castle torture room bled together and obliterated any sense of time. She'd lost much more than her sense of time in that dank room. She'd lost the last vestiges of her innocence, her sanity, and a bit of her soul—and all in the name of a cause. All in the name of destroying the Coven. But was it worth it? Yes, Rochester must be stopped at any cost but the price had been steep indeed. She hadn't fully anticipated the toll this would take on her. Of course, she'd been distressed by the loss of her powers. It had been like losing a sense, such as sight or hearing but she hadn't taken into account the toll of the abuse. It had nearly eradicated her sense of self. Merrick had been right. Hubris had gotten her in trouble. At first, she had refused to betray the Alliance by confessing what she knew even if it meant her life. Then came the day when they finally broke her. At the time, she lived in the most basic state of mind

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possible. Her thoughts centered on making it through the next moment, the next breath. She'd been unable to control herself and had even spilled some of the Alliance's secrets. However, she didn't let them know why she had allowed herself to be captured. The bastards hadn't been able to torture her enough to get that. She hadn't compromised her mission. Rochester had offered her up as a human prize, a reward for madmen. The Alliance was up against warlocks who were willing to do anything to reach their horrific goals. They had no qualms about using dark magic, murder, torture to further their own interests and now Rowena had become intimately familiar with all of their means of domination, but apparently, she had more innocence to lose. But now she craved Sinclair's touch. Seduction was insidious. Wrapped up in compassion and coercion, it didn't feel wrong. She hadn't been prepared for how gentle he was, or how ruthless. He'd made her want him as a means of controlling her. Rowena knew without a doubt that she wanted Sinclair. Wanted to use him as well. And Vayne. She couldn't even think about the effect Vayne would have on her. Rowena lay down on Sinclair's bed and closed her eyes. She couldn't think about this anymore. She needed to rest, regroup, and then maybe she could figure out how she could get the information she sought without losing anymore of her self. **** Hours later, she awoke to a noise. Her eyes fluttered open and she knew that she wasn't alone. Sinclair stood at the end of the bed, his hungry eyes on her as he disrobed. A strained silence stretched between them. Rowena told herself that she wasn't excited about what was going to happen next. He'd already taken off his linen apothecary robe. It had been discarded on the cedar trunk at the end of his bed. Sinclair was a handsome man. He had long, Roman nose and square jaw with a cleft in the center. His long black hair fell in unruly waves around his broad shoulders. His eyes were a cobalt blue and filled with wicked hunger. "Did you rest well, Rowena?" "Yes.” Rowena told herself that her heart beat with fear, not anticipation. She suddenly realized how she looked, laying on his bed naked and vulnerable. “You have a very comfortable bed." No point in covering up now, he'd already seen all she had to offer. Rowena realized that she had to take control of the situation or she would be lost forever, even if that meant submitting to him. Inversely, she would have power over him because she planned to manipulate him with her body. Just as he had done. His full lips curved into a sinful smile. “Good. I plan to keep you in it for a very long time." Instead of covering up, Rowena lifted her arms over her head and gripped the headboard. Then, she splayed her legs, enticing him with her willingness. Sinclair lifted one raven eyebrow, watching her quizzically. “I must say I'm surprised. I'd expected another fight, not to say that you're surrender is unwelcome but it is uncharacteristic.” His expression was

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droll, but the way his nostrils flared and his harsh intake of breath was not. He hadn't been unaffected by he little display. "What's the point in fighting? It's useless, isn't it? I don't have any magic to escape with, and you've set up enough wards in this place to guard the Hope Diamond." "Ah, so you've gone from being a rebel to a pragmatist?" Rowena undulated on the bed and saw his fists clench at his sides. “I prefer to think of myself as a realist. Now is the not the time for a prison break. Now, do you want to chat or do you want to shag?" Sinclair laughed. “Well put.” He walked to the nightstand and pulled three red silk scarves from the drawer. “Then I'll tie you up and fuck you." Rowena bristled at his tone, but she knew she could take anything. Just because she'd become a slave, didn't mean that her will had been compromised. Rowena smirked at him, ignoring the thrill that went through her body as she imagined him tying her to his big bed and dominating her. "I shall have to remedy that." Sinclair centered one scarf over her right wrist and wrapped it repeatedly, but not too tight. The, he repeated the process with the other wrist and scarf. He threaded the other scarf through the others before attaching her arms to the wrought iron headboard. While the scarves bound her tightly, they didn't cut off her circulation. She also she sensed that Sinclair wouldn't hurt her. He wasn't like his brethren, perhaps because he healed others. Sinclair had some semblance of a conscience. Sinclair stood at the side of the bed and looked down at his handiwork with a satisfied expression. He still wore a pair of linen trousers and she could see his erection, fierce and insistent pushing at the buttons. "I promise not to hurt you." Rowena bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something she'd be punished for. “I can take anything you can dish out." "Good girl. You might quite a picture. Helpless. Your breasts are thrust up, waiting for my mouth. Spread your legs for me, like you did before." Rowena widened her legs and bent them at the knee, so he could see all of her. It aroused both of them. Rowena never knew she was a closet exhibitionist. Or maybe it gave her a sense of power to invoke lust in him. He wanted her, needed her on some level. Sinclair undid his trousers and pulled them down his legs. His thick erection sprang from the linen. The head was deep purple and slick with arousal, nested in black hair at the base. Rowena ached to feel it inside her, to feel him on top of her, plunging endlessly... Sinclair settled himself over her, a leg on either side of her waist and palmed one of her breasts with his big hand. He popped the nipple in his mouth and suckled her, drawing strongly. Rowena's head fell back as she twisted in the restraints. Her nipples had always been sensitive and he knew just the right amount of suction and speed she preferred. When he'd laved both nipples, he looked down at her with satisfaction. “Do you like this, little slave?"

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"Yes!” she said urgently. Her eyes had slammed shut and her hands had balled into fists, the knuckles gone white. The illusion of any control on her part had been fleeting. She was helpless against the onset of his prowess. “Please..." "Please, what? Is there something you need?" It galled her to say it, but she needed him inside. She kept picturing the fullness of his fingers between her legs and needed to feel his thick cock inside her, claiming her. “I need you inside me." Sinclair grinned. “I thought you'd never ask. Happy to oblige.” He lurched into her and she cried out at the sudden fullness and the beginnings of pain. Sinclair slid in and out of her, rough and eager. This wasn't lovemaking, it was possession. Sinclair set a rapid pace and Rowena knew she wouldn't last much longer. She needed this release, needed to feel a few fleeting moments of pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies to manipulate her in to giving him what he wanted. Rowena didn't disappoint either, she gasped as her body began to convulse. "Oh, master, yes!" He impaled her one last time before giving an exultant cry and collapsing on top of her. Hours later, when Rowena finally roused from her stupor, she found that he had already fallen asleep. He'd removed her restraints and had arranged her body around his own, holding her captive. One of his big hands circled her waist and the other settled possessively between her legs. "Mine,” he muttered in his sleep, drawing her inexorably closer. Rowena shivered, afraid that he was right. Afraid that she'd truly become a slave. Even more so, afraid that she enjoyed his rough loving.

Chapter 5 Thorne Estate London, England Vayne Thorn read missives as he sat at his mahogany desk in the den. The den was his favorite room in the elegant town house he owned, with its thick blue carpet and calming tan walls. But today, it didn't hold as much appeal as it usually did. His thoughts kept straying back to his new pet as he tried to work on his correspondence. He kept coming back to the idea that she washis, at least part of the time. Rowena Black had been promised to him and it should have stayed that way. But he held hope that she would be his sole possession soon enough. After all, being a warlock was a very dangerous profession. He'd hate for anythingunpleasant to happen to Sinclair.

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He grew impatient waiting for her to arrive, the way a mortal child did on Christmas Eve. He glanced at the clock on the mantle and discovered that it was nearly eleven. Rochester had made it clear that she would rotate between their households on a strict schedule. Sinclair was late. When he finally deigned to appear in the den with Rowena in tow, it was nearly noon and Vayne's patience had been pushed to its limit. Vayne pasted on a polite smile. “Sinclair,” he acknowledged. His eyes drifted from the other warlock's disgruntled face to Rowena who crouched at his feet, her eyes carefully fixed on the floor. Vayne's view of her was partially obscured by Sinclair's cape, which fell protectively over her back. Why Sinclair insisted on wearing clothes from the 19th century, Vayne couldn't guess, but the man looked ridiculous. Not taking his eyes off of Rowena, he waved a dismissive hand at Sinclair. “You may go now." Sinclair leered down at Rowena. “I must apologize for my tardiness, I was otherwiseengaged .” One of his long hands settled into Rowena's hair and he stroked it, almost tenderly. Like an owner caresses a prized pet. Vayne's fists clenched. “I see. Ido hope I won't lose track of the time as well.” Vayne could see a thin white line appear about his mouth. Apparently, Sinclair had become quite enamored of their little prize. Too bad. Rowena had been his since he'd first clapped eyes on her. Sinclair reined in his rage and inclined his head in a tight nod. “I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon, Thorne.” He looked down at Rowena one more time, evidently reluctant to leave her in Vayne's clutches. He paused, about to say something to her but thought better of it and disappeared as warlocks learned to do, leaving Vayne alone with Rowena. Vayne had waited for this moment for years. He had Rowena Black at his mercy, he could do anything depraved thing he wanted with her. "Stand up,” he ordered curtly, coming out from behind his desk. He'd been looking forward to humbling her, but he didn't counted on being so pleased to see her, so eager for her arrival. She obediently got to her feet and met his gaze. If the dear girl would have had a weapon, Vayne was certain he'd be a dead man. "I won't have you pretending you're somewhere else or I'msomeone else, Rowena. You are always to keep your eyes on me unless I tell you otherwise. Understood?" "Yes, I understand.” she snapped. Vayne stepped behind her, his breath falling on her shoulder. He was too close for her comfort and she just barely resisted the urge to flee. He could tell by the way her leg muscles tightened and then released, in preparation to run. Only she had no means of escape. Sinclair had healed all of her wounds and she had been restored to her former glory.Good. Vayne had

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no use for torture, not when there were much more pleasurable ways of getting information. "You will address me as Vayne or Thorne. You will speak my name so that you will always know who is punishing you, who isinside you. Understand?" Obviously, she wanted him almost as much he wanted her, but he was far more honest about his desires. “Yes, Thorne." "Now, let's take a better look at you.” He situated himself on the couch so he could get a panoramic view. He regarded her with approving eyes. Rowena was undeniably beautiful. “Turn around for me with your arms spread wide." "No." "No? You think it's beneath you? You're a slave, Rowena, not a sorcerer. Not anymore, at least." "I don't care what you do. You're not going to break me. So, fuck you,” she growled. Vayne grinned. “I'd be delighted, but first I want you to turn around. I want to see my property." "Fine!” She pirouetted before him, but her eyes spit fire at him. Vayne sucked in a breath at the sight of her lithe body, moving in fluid motion. He had planned to humiliate her, tease her, and leave his own marks on her flesh, but instead he was seized with a most unwelcome desire for her. Not lust,desire . Vayne wanted to please her. She was the enemy. He planned on fucking her roughly and easing his urges, but he hadn't counted on how lovely she was. How she made him feel. He craved a taste of her luscious body. Her creamy skin was unlined, smooth and even. Exquisite. Rowena's breath was rapid, a mixture of fear and desire. One heightened the other. How curious that they had the same physical effect on the body—the dilated eyes, the panting breaths, the delicious loss of self-control. "Are you afraid of me, Rowena?" She scowled. “No. Areyou afraid of me?" Vayne touched the jagged scar that bisected his cheek. “Would you like to rethink your answer?" "You got what you deserved.” She offered her no apologies, merely watched him with spiteful eyes. "Perhaps this will change your mind.” Vayne pulled her athame from his back pocket. “Remember this?' "That's mine!" "Actually, it belongs to me now. Just like you." She bit her lower lip to keep from saying something, whether to curse at him or beg for mercy, he couldn't say but he bet it wasn't the latter. He wanted to view her body from every angle as well as increase her anxiety. It worked, she grew more agitated as he paced a tight circle around her.

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"We're going to play a game today.” She didn't speak, merely waited for him to continue. Excellent. He came up behind her, placing a gloved hand on her shoulder before he placed her athame against her throat. She gasped, backing up against his body. She finally found her voice. “Are you going to kill me?" "I wouldn't dream of it, Rowena.” He ran the blade across her throat, lightly scraping it against her skin, but never actually breaking it. He didn't stop until it rested on the nape of her neck. “I'm just going to slide this over you, let you feel it against your skin.” He released her abruptly and she looked over her shoulder at him, audibly gulping at the sight of the knife in his grip. "Lie down on my desk." She slowly walked over to the desk on wobbly legs. She started to lie down on her back when he spoke up. “On your stomach." She obediently turned over and lay down on her stomach. His breath caught at the depraved tableau before him. "Very good. And do be sure to stay still, I'd hate for my hand to slip." He ran the blade down the sloping lines of her back admiring the look of cool silver against her pale flesh. He knew the knife belonged to her family. He'd wager her father would roll over in his grave if he knew he used it on her in a sex game. Somehow, that made it all the more delicious. As he scraped it along the back of her knees, her breath came faster. “Does it feel good? Do you like the kiss of steel against your skin, Rowena?" Rowena hesitated. He could tell that she wanted to say no, wanted to tell him to go to the devil, but she moaned as it traveled across her calf. “Yes, Vayne." He ran it all the way down both of her legs, pausing briefly at the back of her thigh. For a moment, he had the wild urge to carve his initials into her, mark her the way she had marked him, but marring her unblemished skin would have been a crime. "Turn over,” he said hoarsely. Rowena rolled over and splayed her legs for him of her own accord. “Good girl.” He ran the dagger up the inside of her thigh, stopping just below her dripping pussy. He slipped a finger inside her. “You're wet, Rowena. I knew you wanted me. Wanted this. Tell me what you desire and I'll give it to you." She pulled in a deep breath. “I want you to let me go." Vayne laughed, utterly delighted by her disobedience. He didn't care for complete submission from his pets. He preferred to work with them. He pressed the tip of the dagger just a bit more and was rewarded by a lovely little droplet of blood that beaded against her alabaster thigh. She cried out and not just in pain. "Oh, dear, my hand slipped.” He leaned over her, letting his weight settle across her body. He loved the

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combination of her nudity and his fully-clothed state. “But it felt good, didn't it? That little bit of pain sharpened the pleasure. Enhanced it." Rowena writhed against him, lost to sensation. “Oh, yes!" Howling in triumph, Vayne pressed his finger at just the right spot and she moaned, her eyes falling closed. She bucked against his hand, begging for him with her body. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me." "I don't!” she blurted out. “I don't! But I do!” She closed her eyes, presumably ashamed by he own admission. Tears dribbled from the corners of her eyes. “I shouldn't want this but I do. What's wrong with me? I—" The game was over. He'd wanted her admission all along. “Hush, Rowena.” He tossed knife aside. His mouth hovered over her eyelids and he pressed feather light kisses there, tasting the salty sweetness of her tears. He kissed his way to her rosebud mouth. “Hush now. I'll give us what we both want." He undid his pants and freed his thick erection and then crawled up her body, placing it against her mouth. Rowena licked him from the base to the very tip of his cock. He groaned as she fastened her eyes on his and meekly sucked his cock into her mouth. Vayne almost came just from the feel of her slippery mouth around him, a heated vortex meant to pleasure any man. To reward her for her efforts, he teased her clit until she danced under his hands. When he could stand it no more, he pulled his cock from her mouth and positioned himself against her. Vayne cupped her face in his hands and fastened his eyes on hers. He wanted Rowena to know that he was the one inside her. For some reason, it mattered to him. Vayne wanted her to want him. He sank into her, became part of her as he held her with his fevered gaze. It was the most intimate thing he'd ever done. He slid in and out of her, creating a slow and deliberate pace that gradually drove them both to madness. Perhaps they had trulyjoined . Hours later, Vayne lay beside her in his bed, watching her sleep in the semi-darkness. Rowena slept soundly, a few scant inches from him but even then she was too far away. He pulled her close against his body, relishing the feel of her in his arms. It felt right. Vayne realized he felt connected to Rowena in a way that he hadn't expected, perhaps because she'd been his enemy for years. He fell asleep easily, feeling more at peace than he had in a very long time.

Chapter 6 Rowena paced the length of Vayne's bedroom. Vayne was still in bed, an arm thrown over his head. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, as though unconcerned about anything. Meanwhile, she was a mass of nerves.

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What the hell was wrong with her? She was supposed to be spying, not playing sex games with two warlocks. She went to the bathroom and closed and locked the door. She needed to get some perspective. Rowena closed her eyes as she stepped into the shower spray. Vayne's shower stall had a heated marble floor and the water beat down on her in deliciously rough manner. It massaged her muscles and loosened the tightness in her limbs. She was used to physical combat but hard loving took its own toll on her body, although it was a pleasurable toll. She couldn't remember feeling so luscious. It was as though he'd brought her sensuality to the fore. She was alone. Vayne had been summoned to a meeting at Rochester's castle. She was grateful for the respite and the time to think. She'd never placed a premium on alone time, but as soon as she didn't have any, it became terribly important. As she drew the washcloth across her body, she kept picturing the night before. While Sinclair's touch had been pleasurable, Vayne's had been a revelation. He'd not only taken possession of her body, but a bit of her soul, too. Rowena responded to him on both a physical and emotional level. Vayne had always gotten under her skin though. Something about him stirred her, awakened her in a way no other man had ever managed. Whatever it was, it couldn't continue. She wouldn't let it. Rowena had become his slave and that was hardly the building block of a relationship. Rowena dried herself off. Not wearing clothing had its benefits, she supposed. She was already dressed. Spying Vayne's discarded black sweater on the floor, she picked it up gingerly. It smelled of him and she couldn't resist pulling it on, liked the scent of him on her skin. Madness. They had driven her to madness. Her behavior was more appropriate for a lovesick schoolgirl, than a sorcerer. But she wasn't a sorcerer anymore. She'd given up her powers in her own quest to stop the Coven. She hadn't realized how it would feel to lose them. For a mortal it would be like losing any other sense, sight, hearing, or smell. Without the pull of magic in her bones, she felt empty.. Rowena stood in front of the foggy bathroom mirror. She swiped at the moisture with her palm and stared at herself. Under her eyes, circles marred her pale skin. She'd lost a great deal of weight and her bones were more prominent. Rowena wasn't sure she recognized herself anymore. For so long her life had been about revenge. Her father had been murdered in their family home in London. She'd arrived home from school to discover her father's body lying in the kitchen. He'd been making stew for dinner and all around him were pieces of chopped vegetables, stained with his blood. His eyes stared at nothing, sightless and empty. Her father was dead, his soul carried away. Rowena had died that day, too. At least a part of her. She lost her innocence and made a decision in

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that moment, to continue her father's legacy. She vowed to become a sorcerer and track down Rochester and his brethren. She vowed to break the Coven and bring it to its knees. She had a job to do. It was high time she remembered that. Rowena padded out of the bathroom, leaving the sweater on the floor where she'd found it. Discarded. Rowena paused in the den doorway staring across the room at his sturdy mahogany desk. She couldn't believe that he'd taken her right there. And she'd loved every minute of it. She was a fool. She walked over and sat down at the desk. Her athame lay on the floor and she picked it up and put it on the desk. Now, wasn't the time to worry about family heirlooms. She was determined to find out something about the Coven. She began opening drawers, looking for clues as she rifled through papers and folders. A clue came to her. Rowena discovered information on elections in several different countries. Included were all the countries in the European Union as well as the United States. So, they had plans for not only England, but also the United States. Global domination. Regardless of the meaning, she had to pass the information on to the Alliance. Rowena closed her eyes and held out her hand in front of her, searching through time and space. She searched for the pocket universe that she could access form anywhere in the world. She didn't use magic to retrieve the fountain pen she stored there. She simply knew where to look. Any mortal could use a pocket universe if they happened to find one. With a sigh, Rowena put her hand through the fabric that welded together the universe and punched into another. The sensation was similar to plunging your hand in a bucket of ice water, it burned with cold pain. Rowena retrieved the pen and pulled it through this dimension. The air rippled around the pen and her hand as she extricated it. With a grin, she pushed her athame into the fold in time before the fabric shifted back into normal time. Perfect for safekeeping. The pen looked innocuous, but allowed her to send anything she wrote with it directly to Merrick. Rowena found a scrap piece of paper and quickly jotted down what she'd learned. The ink fluttered off the page and spun in the air before it disappeared in puff of smoke. It would reappear on a tablet of paper in Merrick's office. "What are you doing?" Rowena turned to see Vayne standing in the doorway with a heavy looking garment bag over his shoulder. She held up the pen. “Doodling.” She'd been a sorcerer for years and had long ago learned the art of subterfuge. Vayne nodded and held out his hand to her. “I find that I am hungry for you again." She shivered at his words, a delicious anticipation settled over her. She wanted to feel him inside her once more. Oddly enough, she felt guilty for spying in his home. She knew that once she'd conveyed the information to the Alliance, the Coven would take out their displeasure on Vayne. It bothered her more than she cared to admit. But she'd never felt guilty before. Ridiculous. Not about spying on the Coven, but about deceiving

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Vayne. It felt wrong. Vayne appeared to buy her answer. “You look beautiful. I'm never quite prepared for the sight of you." Rowena tilted her head, looking for a trace of mockery, but found none. “What do you mean?' "I mean that I can't get you out of my mind. Not just recently, either. Every night when I go out, I hope that we'll meet.” Vayne knelt at her feet, caging her body with his own. "So we can fight?" Vayne smiled. “No, so we can banter. It's our foreplay." "Hardly. I scared you and you tried to capture me." He tilted his head. “Tell the truth. Did you ever hope we would be lovers?" Rowena shook her head. “We're not lovers, Vayne, I'm your slave." He caught her hand with his own and then fit them together, palm to palm. “You are no one's slave. You are Rowena Black. If you don't believe me, consider our situation.” He knelt at her feet. “Who is the one on his knees?" Rowena took in a shuddering breath. What was he trying to say? “You are." "And have I ever asked you to call me master?" "No." Vayne laced his fingers through hers. “Then you aren't my slave and I'm not your master. We're just Vayne and Rowena." She raised her chin. “Sinclair is my master." Vayne's jaw clenched. “Sinclair is a dead man if he ever touches you again. I'm not turning you over to him, even if I have to leave the Coven to keep you." Rowena caught her breath. “What are you saying, Vayne?" He slid his hands up her thigh and parted her legs further. “I'm saying that I need you, Rowena. Somehow, you've become important to me. At this moment, I need to taste you. Please, let me love you." Love. It wasn't quite an admission, but it was close. Rowena fell back against her chair with a shudder. She parted her legs for him, let him inside of her. Vayne put her legs over his shoulder and bent his mouth her pussy. He lapped at her like a man who'd been starved, seeming to relish the taste of her on his tongue. His mouth was expert, making her move against him as he teased her clitoris and sampled the folds. He slipped his tongue deep inside her, bathed it in her heat. Then he lubricated his fingers in her wetness

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and slowly slipped it inside her arsehole. He slipped it past the tight ring of muscle and pumped it in and out. Rowena couldn't think, she only felt. She felt the presence of magic once more. Their lovemaking had a magic all its own. It rolled through her body in waves, and made her cry out his name as she climaxed. For the first time since her father's death, Rowena felt complete. Replete. Home. **** Hours later, she awoke to a fierce argument going on in the living room. She wrapped a sheet around her body and went out into the fray. Both Sinclair and Vayne were shouting at each other, their faces red. "You won't keep her from me. I own her as well,” Sinclair snarled. Vayne's raised his wand, poised to strike. She ran over and wrapped her hands around his arm. “What are you doing?" "You are mine!" She dropped his arm, shaking her head in disgust. “Listen to both of you. Me. Mine. Both of you treat me as if I'm property, rather than a person.” For a moment, she thought that maybe Vayne had seen her as something more, but she'd been wrong. “I'm going with Sinclair." Sinclair smirked at Vayne as she joined him. “I've missed you, my dear." Rowena sighed. They appeared in his bedroom once more, only this time the room was dominated by a large steel cage, large enough to hold a man, nearly twice her size. Inexplicably, she felt herself grow wet at the sight. For some reason, bondage turned her on, perhaps because she was so tightly in control of her life. "Is—is that for me?” she murmured. Sinclair smiled. “Yes, as a treat for us both. I've missed you, Rowena." While he heated her blood, he didn't make her breath catch the way Vayne did. Vayne captured both her body and her mind. She'd always held a torch for him. But he would be brought down along with the coven. Her feelings for him, whatever they might be, were hopeless. She looked up at Sinclair "What are you thinking about, pet?” he asked silkily. "You,” she lied. He had been kind to her and healed her wounds, despite his need to keep her as a slave. He might have useful information to give her about the Coven as well. He appeared to be pleased by her faux admission. “And why is that?" She dropped the sheet that she'd hastily wrapped around herself at Vayne's apartment and she saw his face go slack. Rowena wanted to exert control over the situation even though she was technically submissive in Sinclair's mind. She needed to tempt him with her body. She wrapped her arms around him

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and pressed in tight against his body. “Because every time I did, I grew wet." Sinclair pulled back and looked down into her eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw. “And Vayne reaped the rewards?" He was jealous! She smiled. “Yes, but the desire was for you." "Then let's see how wet you can grow for me here.” He took her by the hand and led her to the wrought iron cage. On the bottom was a piece of carpet to keep her feet warm. She stepped into the cage and he pulled it shut behind her, the steel locking in place. The bars were set far apart enough that her face fit between the bar, but she couldn't squeeze through. She could see his cock swelled behind his trousers. “May I suck your cock?" His eyes filed with terrible hunger. She dropped to her feet before him and cast him a demure look. "Suck me.” He undid his trousers and his thick cock sprang free, already slicked with pre-cum and ready for her. The head dipped, as though anticipating being in her mouth. She lapped at his cock, starting at the base and all the way to the head, like a lollipop. It was smooth beneath her tongue. She swirled her tongue over the opening at the top. Something about being held like this, like an exotic slave at the seraglio put her libido into overdrive. She grew more and more wet, wanted to feel him mounting her. She took him down her throat, relaxing her jaw and letting him fully in. Sinclair groaned. “That's it, pet. Suck it. Put your hand through the bar and cup my balls.” She did, snaking a hand through the hard steel to cup his velvety balls in her hand as she sucked strongly. His hands curled around the bars as he fucked her mouth. All too soon, he erupted in a groan as he filled her throat with thick cum. She tried to swallow it all, but some escaped her lips. Sinclair panted, nearly swaying on his feet. Finally, he fell to his knees and watched her through the bars. “You're wanting, aren't you?" Her pussy dripped moisture. She tried to squeeze her legs together and she nodded, but she was in control of her desire. She would use it to control him. “I need you.” She'd already brought him to his knees. "I'm sure you do,” he crooned. “But I want to watch you touch yourself. Lie down for me and touch your pretty little cunt.” She lay down on her side and splayed her thighs for him so he could see her pussy. She gently played with the lips, all the while watching his fascinated face. He looked mesmerized. She stroked her pussy, over the velvety folds, and pinched her clitoris, making her legs quiver in response. His cock reared to life as he watched. “My God, you are delicious." "Do you want me, Sinclair? Want to push your cock into me? Take me?” She taunted as she stroked. Sinclair fumbled with the locking mechanism and threw open the cage, yanking her from the floor and sliding into her. Fucking her fiercely.

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Rowena shouted in triumph as she came. **** When she awoke hours later, she was pillowed on his chest. Sinclair silently stroked his hair. “You are quite a little minx, aren't you?" She grinned at him. “Maybe, but I think you enjoyed it.” She traced circles on his chest. "What if I did?" "I did, too. Will you have to leave me today, to go to another meeting?" He sighed. “I'm afraid so, my dear. Would you like me to leave you in the cage while I'm gone?” He arched an eyebrow. “Then I'll fuck you when I get back." She shivered. “Is it okay if I stay in bed?" He gave her an indulgent smile. “As you like, my dear.” He pulled her up his body and kissed her soundly before flipping her over, so that his cock was nestled against her stomach. “I will still shag you senseless when I return.” He smirked. “I don't think I'll shower before I leave, so I'll go the meeting smelling of you." In order to piss Vayne off? Terrific. He got up to change while she contemplated where she would attempt to spy. After Sinclair left, she scurried into his home laboratory. Apparently, he hadn't felt it necessary to magically ward his notebooks from her. He'd simply locked them up, which she was easily able to pick. What she found made her blood freeze in her veins. Sinclair was developing mind control serums. According to the notebook she found in his locked filing cabinet, he had developed Agent 4, a serum that utilized magic and science in order to sublimate the will of another being. Completely. And it could be done remotely. He was helping Rochester take over the government. She quickly sent the information off to Merrick, along with a tiny little sample of his serum. After she'd finished, she walked into Sinclair's bedroom to find Vayne. He had his arms crossed over his chest. “You are spying." Her eyes widened. “What are you doing here?" "Apparently wasting my time. I was coming to save you from Sinclair while he was away. I was going to take you to my home, only to find you going through his records." "Why didn't you stop me?" He shook his head. “Because I intend to kill you.” He withdrew his wand and aimed it at her. She could feel the panic welling within. “Vayne, wait. I'm just—"

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"I know, but I cannot let you live, after what I know.” He lowered his wand. “Nor can I harm you." "Then we're at an impasse." "Not quite.” Vayne crossed his arms over his chest. “I have not been ... interested in the Coven as I have in the past. Rochester is a madman. While I like power, I do not enjoy chaos and he does.” He held out his hand. “Perhaps it is time we both get out of this." He made them both reappear in his apartment, his room specifically. “What are we doing?" "Hush.” He walked to the close and removed a garment bag from the depths. “Put this on. We haven't much time." Vayne's room was a wonder. Swathed in blue satin, the king-sized bed dominated the room. Against the wall stood two armoires as well as a thick trunk at the end of the bed. Over all it was a beautiful if dramatic room. Rowena laid her garment bag down on the trunk. When she opened it, she found a red satin dress in her size, along with all of the accessories she needed. Vayne had good taste when it came to ball gowns, but she'd rather appear at Rochester's in her familiar black leather, wand blazing. Twenty minutes later, she was ready. Rowena had her make-up applied and all of her undergarments on, but couldn't manage to get her gown zipped. Resigned, she slipped her high heels on and walked to the door. Vayne stood in the hallway, leaning against the door. His mouth fell open as he saw Rowena. “You look lovely.” He grinned. “Though, I prefer you naked in my bed." Rowena laughed. “I need your help, you lech.” Rowena presented him with her back. “I can't get it zipped." "Allow me.” Vayne placed his hand at the base of her spine. Rowena trembled a little at his touch. Odd, considering he'd touched everywhere, but after the morning's conversation, even the smallest touch seemed more important. He grasped the zipper and drew it up her back. “It's disappointing to see that creamy skin slowly disappear from sight. Can I interest you in a quick little shag before we go?" "How about a slow, thorough one once we get home?" She sensed that he took great care not to pinch her skin and drew out the process longer. Why did his touch feel so right? "You've convinced me, but we will get back in here in record time tonight.” When he finished, Vayne reluctantly removed his hands. “Done." "Thank you.” She turned to face him. Vayne opened his jacket and withdrew a black satin pouch. “For you.” He handed it to her. Inside, were two elbow-length black gloves.

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"Thank you, Vayne.” She pulled them on her arms. “Rochester really goes all out, huh?" "Yes, he enjoys having his fun. We need masks, too.” He pulled two simple black masks from the trunk at the end of the bed. They were on silver handles that could be placed against the face. They only covered the eyes and nose and his was slightly larger than hers. "What's the point? Don't Coven members know everyone at the party?" "That's part of the charm of a masked ball, Rowena. They get to pretend to be someone else.” He sighed. “Are you ready?" "No,” she admitted. She picked up her shawl from the bed. "I understand,” Vayne took the piece of tulle from her and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Doing something decadent is always like that.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and took a step closer. "The first time?” Rowena was acutely aware of the bed against the back of her knees. "It's terrifying and exciting at the same time,” Vayne murmured. She wasn't sure what he was talking about right now but it sure as hell wasn't Rochester's party. "I can see that.” Her face was upturned and his minty breath was warm on her cheek. "Trust me. I'll be with you every step of the way.” His lips hovered over hers. “Follow me." "I'm ready.” Rowena bridged the distance between them by placing her lips against his own. It was their first kiss. Rowena was in the middle of maelstrom. This wasn't the pleasant goodnight kiss of a restrained gentleman. He tasted of power and shadows. Things that made your heart beat faster and your breath catch. She wanted more, wanted to drown herself in him. Even the dark part of him. He'd alluded to leaving the Coven, but she feared that it was idle talk. Conversely, she worried about his defection. They would have to take his powers and worried that when she looked into his eyes, she'd see hatred instead of the beginnings of love. When he lifted his mouth from hers, they silently gazed at each other. Neither one of them could put words to what had happened. Vayne took a deep breath and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Beware. You've entered the serpent's den, Rowena.” She noted that the scenery around them had changed. They were in the foyer of Rochester's castle. Rowena spun around when they reached their destination to face him. "Welcome,” Rochester drawled. He was leaning indolently against the staircase, a glass of champagne in his hand. His mask fluttered to the floor. "Showtime,” Vayne murmured. He placed his hand in the small of her back and pressed her forward.

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Chapter 7 "Hello, poppet." Rowena froze as he glided towards them, looking smug. She felt Vayne tense beside her, but she wasn't worried that Rochester would start something. She was pissed. She'd been forced grovel at his feet once before. It wouldn't happen again. "Rochester,” she acknowledged. "Vayne, it appears you haven't taught your pet her proper place." Vayne grinned. “What can I say? She's got a mind of her own." Rochester took her hand in his, before she could pull it away. For a wild moment, she thought he would snap her wrist but instead he kissed her hand. Rowena's stomach rolled in protest and her hand trembled from the amount of effort it took to remain still. She had the urge to slap his face. "Perhaps I shall have to find a more suitable master for her. One will keep her in line." Rowena leaned in close to him. “I'm going to kill you soon,” she whispered. Rochester chuckled, but his eyes widened. “Idle threats are meaningless, poppet, especially when you have no powers." "It wasn't a threat, Rochester, it's a promise." "Now, isn't the time to give you the proper thrashing you so richly deserve,” he said, holding her hand in a bruising grip. “I'll see to you after the party." "Count on it,” Rowena said through clenched teeth. She watched Rochester walk away with a smug smile. He was a coward at heart and she would beat him, powers or no powers. Vayne and Rowena stood in the main entrance hall. He dusted off his tuxedo jacket. “Well, that was interesting." "Why did we come here, Vayne? Do you really intend to leave the Coven?" "Who's leaving?" They turned to see Sinclair. He was dressed in a tuxedo as well. His red mask dangled form his fingers. He glared at Vayne. “You forgot to bring her to my home this afternoon. I'll have to keep her for an extra day." "Time flies when you're shagging." Rowena narrowed her eyes at Vayne. Naked male aggression left her cold.

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Sinclair offered his hand. “Care to dance?" "Love to.” Before Vayne could protest, Sinclair whisked her onto the ballroom dance floor. All around them, hundreds of masked wizards danced to destruction and the corruption of the world. She could hardly believe she stood among them, a hen in the fox house. Vayne watched from the edge of the dance floor as Sinclair pulled her in close to his body. Just for show, she relaxed against him. "I hardly recognize you with clothes on. Did you miss me, little slave?” Sinclair purred in her ear. "I'm not your slave. I never was.” She glanced at Vayne. She'd only agreed to a dance to piss him off. From the way he paced the floor, she'd wager it worked. "I beg to differ. Actually, you were the one who begged, if I recall." "How gentlemanly of you to remind me.” She looked in Vayne's direction again. Sinclair followed her line of sight. “You don't have feelings for him, do you?" "I—" "Oh, dear. It's all over you.” He cupped her chin in his hands and stared deep into her eyes. “You're besotted with him, aren't you?.” A fine, white line appeared his mouth. "I'm not besotted.” Not yet. "You're in love with that bastard all right.” He stared at Vayne, his eye twitched. “But just to be sure, I'd better test it.” He covered his mouth with hers before she could protest. While his kiss was pleasant, it didn't move her the way Vayne's had. When he pulled back, Sinclair shook his head. “Yep, you're in love with him. That was about as exciting as kissing a post." "I'm not feeling particularly randy at the moment,” Rowena quipped. "Not for me, at least.” Sinclair chuckled, but the laughter never reached his eyes. "Thorne doesn't deserve you, you know." "Does that mean you're bowing out?” Rowena asked curiously. He shrugged. “I've always grown bored with my women before. You are the first to tire ofme so quickly." "I'm not tired of you." He cocked his head to the side. “No, but I'm no one's charity shag." Rowena smiled sadly. “So be it." Sinclair arched an eyebrow. “But you can't tell me that you didn't enjoy yourself in my bed."

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Rowena flushed. “It was ... quite pleasurable." "Pity. We could have quite a pair, you know. I might have even been able to stay with you for a few months. Wouldn't that have been fun?" She nodded, remembering the wicked time she'd had in his bed. “It would have been decadent.” Rowena sighed. The slow waltz was coming to an end. She reached up on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Do yourself a favor and get away from these people. They'll destroy you." He tipped her head and back and kissed her fiercely, putting all of his lust and anger into it. “If you ever tire of him, come back to me. I'll make sure you are satisfied." Sinclair escorted her back over to Vayne, who was bristling with rage. Sinclair bent over and kissed her hand. “Take care, Rowena.” He walked away from them both without a backward glance. Vayne grabbed her hand and tugged her out onto the empty balcony where they were both obscured by thick curtains. “Did you enjoy your dance?" "Are you jealous?" "Hell, yes,” He grabbed her up in arms, lifting her off her feet. “I love you!" "You love me?" "Maybe. I care about you. I think about you all the bloody time, even when I didn't know you." Rowena scowled. “I care about you, too!" "Well, that's ... that's ... wonderful!” Vayne whirled her in his arms and held her close. "Shh! Let me down before you draw any more attention to us,” she said, pushing away. He let her go and she met his gaze. “You know this won't work, don't you? You work for the Coven and I'm a sorcerer ... was a sorcerer." "We don't have anything to do with the Coven." "Yes, we do.” She took a deep breath. “Vayne, I let myself be captured so I could spy on all of you. I even spied on you." "Clever girl.” He sounded proud of her. “Did you find anything interesting?" "Yes, but not enough to bring the Coven down." "Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty and to be honest, I figured as much. If you'd been that easy to capture, we'd have brought you in long ago." "Then you also know that this is hopeless between the two of us.” They stood only a few feet apart, but a cavern might as well have stood between them. They were too different. "What if I leave the Coven? Join the Alliance?"

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"You mean, as an informant? Vayne, they'd take your powers first off,” Rowena warned. "No, not as one of those bloody turncoats, I meant as a sorcerer. I can help, Rowena." She shook her head sadly. “Vayne, you've done deplorable things, I'm not sure that they'd every trust you." "I know I have a lot to atone for,” Vayne said sadly. “I joined when I'd barely gotten out of the school room. I did some bloody stupid things in the name of glory. I'm a different man than I was and I have a great deal of insider information. I've wanted out for a while, it isn't just for you. I know I can make a difference and I'm willing to prove it." "How?” Rowena asked. "What if I hand over the grimoire, the Coven's spell book? The Alliance could create counter curses for all of the spells in the book. I know where it's kept, in the ritual room in the dungeon." Rowena knew that would make a lot of difference to the Alliance, it would be a huge offering. She bet they'd agree to spare his powers and perhaps, in time, learn to trust him. “We need to get it. It'll help your case. Do you know anything else about the elections?" "I'm afraid not. I was asked to watch several of them, but I didn't know the true purpose. Rochester guards his secrets like the zealot that he is. I do know that the information you are looking for is in his study." Rowena nodded. “Good. Then, you'll retrieve the grimoire and I'll go after the election information. We'll meet up in the main hallway." He grabbed her arm. “No, we should go together." "We'll be more noticeable together." "I don't like this. It's too risky. You don't have even have powers." "But I do have my wits. I'll be fine.” Vayne looked unconvinced. “I promise.” She smiled at him, hoping she seemed more confident than she felt. “I'll go first and then you come out after a few minutes. We don't want to arouse any suspicions." Vayne pulled her into his arms and kissed her once more. His kiss rippled through her body all the way from her head to her toes. When he pulled back, they were both unsteady on their feet. Magic. “Right. Got to go spy now.” She exited the balcony on wobbly legs. Rowena snuck past the ballroom without drawing attention to herself. The study was easy enough to locate. Unfortunately, it was warded and the warden was sentient. The power pushed her gently away as she made a grab for the handle. If she had her powers, she could have blasted her way in. Now, she'd have to use a little persuasion. She tried again and a small golden dragon appeared. It undulated as it floated in the air. When it spoke, there was a slight hiss in its voice.

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"Who goesss there?" "Rowena Black,” she answered, squaring her shoulders. “Let me in." "You may not passs,” the dragon hissed. It blinked its ruby eyes and tilted its head to the side. “You don't feel like a warlock. You have no powersss." Rowena could feel her ire rising. “That's what you think. Let. Me. In." The dragon chuckled, amused by her anger. It floated onto her shoulder and snaked its head around to sniff her. “You usssed to have power. We're you a witch?" "What is this? The bloody inquisition? Are you going to let me in or ask me questions?" "I guesss. It's not asss if you can do any damage,” the dragon teased. “But only if he you say pleassse." "Fine. Please. Let. Me. In. NOW." The dragon laughed delightedly, spinning in the air as it raced to the door. “Temper. Temper." With a flick of its tail, the ward was removed and the doors fell open. "Finally." "What do you sssay?" "What are you? Emily Post?" The dragon looked at her expectantly. “No thank you, no entranccce." "Fine. Thank you, you little red-eyed pillock.” She slammed the door shut behind her. She made a face at Rochester's choice of décor. With its black furnishings and gold accents, it looked more like a hotel in Las Vegas, than a British castle. With a shrug, she raced to his desk and began rummaging through the drawers. After several minutes, Rowena discovered a file with a listing of all of the elections around the world. It appeared that the Coven planned to replace mortal leaders with warlocks. Over the period of a few years, a warlock would be in charge of all of the mortal nations on the planet. Rochester planned to enslave humanity by having legal power over them. "You are just as nosy as your father, poppet." Rowena smiled as she looked up from the file. Rochester stood in front of her, his wand at the ready. “It's time, then.” She tossed the file to the ground. "This should be a fast fight. You don't have powers anymore, little girl. Although, those weren't much of a help when you went up against me before, were they?" "I don't need powers to kill you, Rochester.” Rowena kicked off her high heels and removed her shawl.

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"Oh, and what do you need?" Rowena punched a hole into the pocket universe and retrieved her family's athame. “This!” It felt good in her hand. She knew she was going to win. Rochester flung another fire ball at her and she ducked it, leaving the fire to ignite his desk. She rounded on him, landing a kick to his midsection. Rochester doubled over. She cut his arm with the athame and he released his wand. "You little bitch! You'll pay for that." "Fine. What do I owe you?" Rochester recovered and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing. He lifted her off her feet. Dots danced before her eyes and Rowena couldn't gasp for her breath. She remembered the knife in her hands and she scraped it across his arm, laying it open to the bone. He dropped her and Rowena fell to the ground, gasping and coughing. The fire didn't help matters. It flooded the room with noxious smoke. Rochester came for her again, aiming his wand at her with deadly intent, but she swept a leg under him and dropped him to the ground. Before he could move, she plunged the athame deep into his chest. Rowena scrambled to her feet and stood over him, watching as the light slowly began to die in his eyes and blood poured forth from the fatal wound. Instead of feeling triumphant, she felt empty. Listless. "You know, I imagined killing you would be wonderful. I thought it would bring closure to my father's death, but it didn't. He's still dead and I still miss him." Rochester coughed, blood spilling from his mouth. “It isn't good for me either, poppet.” He reached for his wand, but she stepped on it, snapping it in two. They were even now. "Rowena! Are you alright?” Vayne burst into the room and she could hear the dragon snickering on the other side of the door. He glanced at Rochester. “I see the bastard got what he deserved.” Then he looked at Rowena, a tender expression on his face. “And so will you.” He aimed his wand at Rochester and whispered. “Seize!" "Vayne, no!” Rowena screamed. "No! Don't!” Rochester protested. But it was too late. Rochester's magic had already spilled into the room. Monstrous in size, it filled the entire room, a venomous black cloud buzzing with rage. Vayne moved his wand and it spun towards her. Rowena screamed as the cloud attacked her, seeping in through any opening it could find. It slid in through her nostrils, through her ears and eyes. His magic poured through her body, bringing evil with it. Rowena could feel Rochester's fear and his anger. His magic nearly strangled her.

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Rowena felt the magic settle into every pore, every cell of her body. It became part of her. Controlled her. When she finally opened her eyes, she felt like she stood in the center of a hurricane, onlyshe was the hurricane. "Rowena? Are you okay?” Vayne asked, watching her with wide eyes. "I'm fine.” With a sinister grin, she leaned over Rochester, grabbed him by the hair and pulled his face toward hers. “Are you scared, Rochester?" With nothing left to lose, he told the truth. “Yes." Rowena laughed. “You should be.” With that, she waved her hand. “Exterminate!" "Ahhh!” Rochester screamed. His body caught fire and burned at such a high heat that he exploded into dust in her hands. She wiped them off and turned to Vayne. “Thanks for the power boost, lover.” Rowena stared at her hand a fire ball formed. She tossed it up in the air and down again, as though she played with a tennis ball. "Rowena? You've got to stop this." "Why?” She flung the fire ball at the desk, watching it join the fire. “I'm having fun. I thought I'd go down to the ballroom and have myself a little party. I could kill a few warlocks for the cause. What do you say?" "This isn't you. This is the black magic talking." "Wrong.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Thisis me. The new and improved me and I have you to thank for it.” She tilted her head to the side. “But maybe you'd rather have a private party.” She crossed to Rochester's leather sofa. “Fancy a shag before we go downstairs?" "Rowena, I love you." She screamed, holding her head. The pain was unbearable. “Stop it!" "I love you, Rowena. Fight the darkness inside of you. Put it back in its box." Vayne tugged her in his arms and kissed her. He pulled back with a curse. “You taste like ashes. Fight this, Rowena. I love you!" Rowena screamed again, in agony. “Stop it!" Vayne kissed her again and she felt him. Felt the purity of his love, of their love flowing through her veins, pushing away the hate and the fear. Love shoved it to the side and allowed her to take control of her newfound magic. Vayne pulled back once more to watch her with anxious eyes. “Are you there? Is that you?" "It's me." "Are you okay?"

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Rowena smiled. “I think so. I love you, too, Vayne." "Good. Let's get out of this place.” He grabbed up the grimoire and the file. “We need to report back to the Alliance.” He turned to her. “Do you really think they'll spare my powers?" "Trust me. We uncovered a worldwide conspiracy, removed the Coven's leader, and retrieved their little black magic book. We've got some leverage." "I think I'm going to like being a sorcerer. I just hope I can make up for all that I did." "I have a lot to make for, too.” Rowena stared at the scorch mark that used to be Rochester. “This time I'm doing it for the right reasons. I want to help people, this isn't about a vendetta." Vayne took her hand in his. “We'll do this together." Rowena smiled. “Together. I like the sound of that."

Epilogue London, England 6 months later Rowena crouched behind a wall. In her hand, she held her wand, poised to strike whenever the warlock showed himself. Over the past few months, the Alliance had gathered up most of the warlocks in the world. They were slowly ridding their society of them, neutralizing and returning the warlocks to the street like wayward alley cats. Vayne had proved to be invaluable. His timely defection had allowed them to bring down the Coven with minimal loss of blood. "Come out, come out wherever you are,” Rowena called. “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” She couldn't help but smile, taunting them never failed to amuse her. The warlock struck, sending a bolt of energy into the wall behind her. The wall crumbled, sending bits of brick and mortar, exploding over her head. Rowena ducked and rolled, when she looked up, she saw Gareth, one of the last hold-outs. He was a formidable wizard, draped in yards of black fabric. "You know, you don't really blend in with the masses,” she said as she got to her feet and dusted herself off. “Everything about you says evil wizard." He gripped his wand, tighter, his rheumy eyes seethed with icy anger. “I know you bested Rochester but he was a fool." "Not really going to argue that point with you.” She continued to circle him, her wand raised and ready to strike if need be. "I am no fool, young lady."

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"Funny. From where I'm standing, you look pretty foolish, like Gandalf the crazy,” she said with a shrug. “But what do I know?" Gareth raised his chin. “I doubt your knowledge is as extensive as mine, child. I will best you and use your powers to strengthen my own." Rowena was far from intimidated. His aim sucked and he was used to having his toadies do the heavy magical lifting. Sans toadies, Gareth was pretty much a sitting duck. “As evil plans goes, it could be worse, but you probably shouldn't have told me that. It's always best to keep it a secret until you attack. Tends to throw the enemy off." With that, she raised her hand and shot out a magical force field from her wrist, sort of like a magical net that settled over him. Surprisingly, Gareth threw it off. He sucked in a deep breath, coughing a little in the process and blew, sending the net back at her. Rowena blocked it with her wrist and it settled on the ground at her feet. “That wasn't nice." He blew out another gust of air that contained flies. Hundreds of buzzing, biting flies that pelted her. "I told you I was more difficult to defeat than Rochester." Rowena ran around the corner, seeking shelter from the insects. They continued to surround her as she swatted at them ineffectually. She covered her face with her hands. “I could use some assistance here!" Vayne and Rowena now had a mental link when they wished, a simple spell that allowed them to track one another. Vayne dropped off the side of the building and landed next to her with a dull thud. "Arceo!"he said, moving his wand in the air in a decisive motion. The flies froze, literally. All around them paused mid-flight. Rowena peeled the ones that had been on her away with a swipe of her hand. They fell to the ground with a slight ping, bouncing off the pavement. She raised her boot heel and squished several of them. “See how you like a little pain." Vayne raised an eyebrow. “You do know that they can't feel anything, don't you? They're frozen." "Still,” she said.” Rowena smiled at him. “Thanks for the rescue, but I didn't really need it. I could have handled this on my own." Vayne smiled disarmingly. “I know that, love, but husbands should occasionally rescue their wives, especially from a fly-spitting wizard." "I appreciate it.” Rowena crossed her arms over her chest. “But, honestly, who resorts to a little biblical plague when backed into a corner? That's hardly fair." "You expected a wizard to fight fair?"

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"It would be a refreshing change.” She turned around. “Do I have any on me?" "No, my love, you are fly free." "Did you freeze him, too?" "Are you accusing me of slipshod magic? Of course, he is frozen, too,” Vayne, with mock affront. "I wouldn't dream of it.” Rowena narrowed her eyes. “Now, its time to take his powers and be off. I believe we have a romantic dinner for two scheduled at the diner." "You know I loathe that place,” Vayne said, walking beside her. “Why can't we go to a proper restaurant? Some place with linen napkins and candlesticks." They came upon Gandalf whose mouth was still opened. She flicked a couple of flies away from his mouth and raised her wand. “Seize!” she murmured. She could feel the volatile magic within her begin to work. As always, it stirred wicked hungers. Rochester's magic was blacker than midnight and much more sexy, but she had managed to rein her desires in so that she harmed no one with her spell. Other than wizards, of course. It struck at Gareth like a snake, plunging inside him and infecting him, pulling his magic away. Sucking slowly. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she siphoned his magic away. The darkness within her called, urging her to crush Gareth and keep the magic for herself. "Easy, Rowena, just pluck it from him and then let go. You can't afford any more black magic in your veins.” She pulled it out and the black cloud hovered in front of her, smelling faintly of fire and brimstone. She raised her hand and trembled, wanting badly to consume it. "Let it go, Rowena,” Vayne urged, his voice barely above a whisper. “Put it away from you.” She flung it away, where it would dissipate. Rowena sucked in deep breath. “That gets harder every time." "Yet you have been able to maintain a balance. You haven't consumed any more dark magic." "No, I haven't,” she said. “I guess that is its own accomplishment. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly. As always, the taste of him intoxicated her. They'd been together for months and she still yearned for his touch. “Thank you for giving me back my magic." "Thank you for helping me to keepmy magic." "We're quite a pair, aren't we?” Rowena mused. "Yes, quite.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I'd prefer to expand our little circle. What do you say we get rid of Gareth over there and concentrate on making me an heir." Rowena smiled, filled with happiness at the thought. She'd have her own family again, be a parent. “I

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think that sounds just about right." BLACK'S MAGIC THE END WWW.SIRENPUBLISHING.COM

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