He was aware of his attractions. He wasn’t bad looking at all, and his ethnicity made him something of an oddity to some normals. If only they knew what he really was. Not that he cared.

  He was too focused on his duty to take any serious interest in some female. Sure, he had his share of one-night stands, but he wasn’t cut out for the rest.

  No matter what the Fates had written in the stars about Zodiac Shifters, Troy was not interested in finding a mate. Fairytales aside, he was all about his duty. He inhaled deeply as he entered the strange place. The subtle fragrance of caramel reached his nostrils.

  Every nerve ending in his body seemed to go on instant alert. He felt his Thunderbird take notice. His unique brand of Shifter magic pulsed under his skin. Some Shifters denied magic, but not those marked by the Zodiac. He understood too well, that magic was woven throughout every thread of the universe.

  The sweet smoky fragrance grew stronger, touching someplace deep and hidden inside of him. For some reason, at that moment, he recalled the story he’d been told as a young boy. One every young Warden had heard back at the Station for as long as he remembered:

  Before a Shifter is born, he or she is chosen to be a Warden, selected and blessed by his or her unique sign of the Zodiac. It is then that the Fates determine the other half of the Shifter’s soul, the one true mate for each Warden designed specifically to balance the Shifter. Their all-encompassing love written in the stars, destiny engraved in the heavens and never to be thwarted. When the soulmates meet, the Warden will know, and when the claiming is complete, strength will overflow in the veins of the Zodiac Shifter and he or she will be bound for eternity in the warm embrace of the powers of their Zodiac sign.

  It was a fairytale. One served to comfort lonely little Shifters who’d been taken from what he’d always assumed were the usual loving families. Not like his. No, Troy was different, and not just because of his heritage. Sex was sex. Nothing more to it than that.

  He’d scratched his itch when the occasion allowed, but he wasn’t looking for happily ever after. Hell, he didn’t believe in it. Troy learned to ignore the stares and blatant invitations of the normals, that’s what Shifters generally called humans, around him. It was easy, considering he was not usually around them.

  Up till then, his time had predominantly been spent at his Station with the other Wardens. His long drive to Shadowland, NY tested his slowly built-up patience and tolerance for humans. Curious fuckers with no common sense. Hardly new a predator when they saw one.

  Didn’t they know he was a raptor capable of slicing and dicing them as quickly as he looked at them? No. Of course not. They also had no idea he would risk his life to save them from destruction.

  He shook his head and forced himself to pay attention to his surroundings. Why the fuck had he taken that little trip down memory lane anyway?

  Fuck if he knew. The scent of caramel grew stronger and his dark brown eyes glowed gold with the power of his beast. He took notice of the malevolent charge in the atmosphere inside the house.

  His feathers bristled under his human skin. The bird inside of him unusually attentive. What was with that scent? Caramel and something else, something spicy and feminine.

  He stepped over the debris from the door with the keen intent of a man on a mission. Unwavering in his concentration to find the source of the commotion and, if he was being honest, the tantalizing scent that had him hardening in his jeans.

  What the fuck? This is no time for a fucking boner, man. He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the creaky attic door where a sickly yellow light oozed from the gap between said door and the rickety looking floorboards beneath it.

  The house was old as fuck. Rotting floorboards, cracks in the walls and ceilings, obvious signs of water damage. It was badly in need of a little TLC. Or maybe a few swings from a wrecking ball. The woman who’d lived there was elderly, perhaps that was why she’d allowed her home to fall apart.

  Not surprisingly, the attic door caved in as soon as he pressed into it. The splintering wood made a cracking sound lost among the increasingly loud howling noises coming from beyond.

  Troy blinked against the dust particles and the unearthly glow only to stop in shock once his eyes refocused. The sight that greeted him was astounding to say the least.

  A grimoire, or book of spells, floated above the unfinished floor of the attic. Its pages whipped to and fro in the unnatural breeze that flitted through the stale room. Above the mildew and dust, was the distinct odor of Dark magic, sickeningly sweet like rotting corpses.

  Even more alarming was the aroma beneath it all. Troy inhaled, the intoxicating scent made every hair on his body stand up. Like caramel and whiskey, sweet and heady at the same time.

  He looked down to the floor and was stunned to see a mane of curly brown hair surrounding a face so pale and fair with glowing green eyes, like some kind of angel staring back at him. Shit. The glowing eyes. Was she a Witch?

  His Thunderbird screamed in his mind’s eye. Troy wanted to cover his ears, but it would do no good. Fuck. His beast was already taking control. He looked down at his half-turned hands and tried to shake off the Change.

  His beast screeched and screamed in his mind’s eye. His steps slowed, they felt heavy as he stared down at the luscious body on the floor. Ignoring the shock in her bright eyes, he breathed deep and swayed slightly on his feet. Mine. Mate.

  “Oh shit,” he said aloud.

  “Don’t come in here!” She’d said right before he entered, but how could he have stopped himself?

  “Run,” she mouthed, unable to do more than that.

  Troy was stunned. His mate. Now? Here?! It didn’t matter. Not if she’d been caught practicing Dark magic. Not one bit. Troy wanted to scream his rage. What the fuck were the Fates thinking? But he didn’t have the opportunity.

  The dark-haired beauty laid out before him like some damn sacrifice, arched her back and cried out. Her lush body writhed on the litter strewn floor in pain, eyes wide open, yet sightless, pink lips parted while she yelled. Whatever was going on, she was being hurt. Hell no.

  Troy reacted immediately, as he’d been trained to do. Anger and fury that she’d somehow been injured on his watch filled him. He did his best to temper his warring emotions. The space was small, but the attic ceiling was high enough.

  Unusually so. About twelve feet or more. He did not think, he simply acted, switching skins to his enormous Thunderbird. He tore through his clothing without a care. He needed to help her. Now.

  Blue-black feathers covered his wings, a stark contrast to his white underbelly. He stood on powerful legs ending in huge, claw-tipped talons. His Thunderbird took in the yellowish green Magic that flowed from the book like a sickness. He knew instinctively what had to be done.

  Troy allowed his beast free reign, trusting in his other self to do what was needed. Opening his wings to span almost seventeen feet, which was practically the entire length of the room, Troy carried himself above the plywood floorboards.

  Intuition and extensive training took over. Troy assessed the situation instantaneously. He needed to stop the spell bleeding Darkness into the land from the pages of that book.

  He opened his large, hooked beak and released a powerful battle cry. Instinct rode him hard. Troy used his beast’s eyes, rotating them in his head to quickly take in the scene. His three-hundred-forty-degree vision when used with the power of his sign, gave him a unique view of the scene before him.

  The woman, his mate, seemed to have trapped herself in some sort of spell. She must have done so while using the ancient grimoire, which as far as he could tell, was inherently evil. But thy? He shoved the question to the back of his mind.

  All that mattered right then was stopping the book. The stink of garbage and rotting flesh increased as did the raging winds and dropping temperatures. It was like a fucking blizzard inside that attic, sans snow. Fuck and damn.

  His supernaturally enhanced eyesight picked up every nuance in that small space. He’d been trained for this and with some effort, he was able to put his rage at his mate’s injuries aside. He concentrated instead on containing the situation.

  Troy opened his beak wide and released a deep, barking cry. It was the signature call of his Thunderbird, and he reveled in its power as he cried into the air.

  Both his mate and the book shrieked and bucked wildly against his unique brand of Zodiac Shifter magic. The grimoire pushed back against him. The powerful odor of rot filled his nostrils, but he was more determined than ever. He wielded his song like a sword. Brandishing each note with deadly accuracy.

  Unlike regular Shifters, he held the power of Aquarius within. He had special access to the sign and usage of his element, the air, to access that magic. Luckily for the universe, he’d vowed to use said powers for the forces of good.

  Troy had been trained well at his Station to do just that. He opened his beak and struck another chord. This one higher than the last. He needed to quell the book’s power. The evil coming from the pages grew desperate. Its magic stunk of rotten flesh and a vileness that he’d yet to name.

  Yet underneath it all, he found the smoky-sweet caramel whiskey scent of his mate. Almost too faint, but not quite. She needed him, and he was powerless to do anything but heed her call. Mate. Mine.

  He struck his wings together, the mighty clash sending waves of his power through the air. Blue and white light shone from his wings, his power worked to fend off the inky darkness that emerged from the book like a slew of rats bent on escaping a sinking ship.

  With the strength of Aquarius pulsing through his veins, Troy thrust his wings together again and again. He managed to weave his unique brand of Shifter magic through the stale air of the attic. The book howled furiously, sending wind and then flame whipping through the air. Troy batted both back with each stroke of his magnificent wings.

  His dual nature made him stronger than most. The darkness shrank back as his beast screeched loudly and continued to beat his wings against its wrath. His mate cried out again, eyes closed, chest heaving with each breath she struggled to take.

  Troy hated that he was hurting her, but damned attraction or not he must persevere. It was very possible she was his enemy. Okay, it was pretty obvious. Fuck. Mate or not, she must be stopped, and it was his job to do so.

  No hurting her, she is our mate. Mine. His Thunderbird growled the words in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t refute the beast’s claim, but he’d sworn an oath.

  Torn inside, he fought the Dark magic with his growing rage. He watched the smoky darkness of the book diminish with each note he struck. The bright blue and white magic of his Thunderbird’s song wrapped around the sickly yellow aura of the grimoire, blanketing the evil in light.

  His call grew stronger and each time he struck out with his wings, beating them in time to his song, the evil tome shuddered and croaked. Troy fought fiercely.

  His mate’s weak groan almost made him lose his concentration. Pain radiated in his chest. Their bond had already begun, yet, as much as it hurt him, he knew this was the best way to help her.

  With one final cry, the book shook and closed, finally dropping to the floor with a heavy thud. It pulsed near his now unconscious mate. The woman was slumped over on her side curled into an almost fetal position. She could’ve been killed, his chest rumbled at the thought.

  Never. She is mine.

  CHAPTER 4

  Messing with Dark magic was not something he’d ever been foolish enough to attempt, but Troy knew some who’d been persuaded to try it out. Seduced by the Darkness, as it were. In Troy’s experience, it always ended badly. Fuck and damn. He wanted to hit something.

  Why would the Fates have chosen her? It must be a mistake. He shook his head, but his Thunderbird pushed against him. Mate. Mine. There was no mistake, she was his.

  He growled and paced the room. Logic and instinct were having an all-out brawl inside of him. Protect her! Troy stopped pacing and rubbed his forehead. His bird had issued the order with more power than he’d have thought was necessary. And yet he wanted to kick himself for dallying.

  Any Shifter worth his salt would protect his mate first, ask questions later. For a Zodiac Shifter, that instinct was pretty much gonna be on overdrive for the duration. Move already, his Thunderbird screamed. He was pretty fucking pissed at his human half.

  Troy stopped second-guessing and used his senses to seek out anything else in the attic that might be harmful to his small mate. He needed to ensure that she was safe the way he needed air to breathe. For the first time since the book had stopped wailing, Troy noticed the temperature inside the house had started warming up.

  The room had lost its frigidity. Good thing too, since he’d shredded his clothes with his shift. Last thing he needed was anything vital freezing the fuck off. Fuck and damn again.

  He looked down at the still form of his mate. Concern marred his face. She was so small compared to him. Curvy and voluptuous, but she was still a good ten inches shorter than him. Her eyes were closed, but she breathed evenly. His heart squeezed inside his chest. She looked sweet and innocent. Like a soft summer breeze, he thought idly.

  His Thunderbird bristled with unease. Was she okay? His beast sent the message to Troy that he was pissed the woman was injured loud and clear! Much as he hated it, and himself right then, Troy had a duty to perform. He needed to turn his attention to the still pulsing grimoire.

  Dark magic oozed from the pages, literally. A thick, oily substance covered the tome, the stench of overripe garbage coming from it was as distinct as it was disgusting. Studying and training had nothing on actual fieldwork, that was for damn sure. He shook his head and took shallow breaths while he secured the book.

  He shuddered at the thought of the damage this type of artifact in the wrong hands could do! Sort of like the kind of havoc he’d been dodging the entire trip up north in the form of erratic and increasingly dangerous road conditions due to the weather! He shook his head grimacing. Dark magic upset the balance of everything around it, not just the supernatural plane.

  Crops, animal behavior, and most noticeably, the weather were all greatly affected by any disturbance caused by Dark magic. It was as unnatural as silicone and as addictive as cocaine. He growled in frustration. What was she doing here? What was her part in all this?

  He glanced in his mate’s direction and at the salt circle she seemed to be caught in on the floor. Probably meant to contain the grimoire. If he wasn’t mistaken, the curly-haired beauty was trapped in a mess of her own making.

  Fuck and damn. Regardless of the circumstances, he had no choice now. She was his prime suspect. He’d have to bring her back to the Station. Despite the unholy fit his Thunderbird was throwing inside of him, Troy would do his duty.

  He clenched his jaw as he lifted the book of Dark spells by one creased corner. His Thunderbird pushed at him to get the vile thing away from his mate. The man agreed. He was careful to avoid letting the goo touch his skin, as he walked over to where remnants of his coat lay on the floor.

  Fuck, he’d liked that jacket too. He found what he was looking for. After some careful maneuvering, he thrust the grimoire into the special binding bag he’d retrieved from the tattered coat pocket.

  The bag was commissioned by the Wardens, bespelled by White Witches, to aid them in their work. It acted as a neutral zone and deafened the powers of the Dark artifacts, like the grimoire, till they were practically nil. After his task was complete, Troy looked over at her.

  The air surrounding the unconscious woman was smoky and sweet. My caramel and whiskey mate. He bit his lip to stop the groan that fought its way to the surface. Thoughts of running his hands over her luscious body consumed him. It was all he could do to keep himself from molesting the poor unconscious woman.

  All he wanted to do was taste her sweet lips and gauge her flavor. Beads of sweat broke out over his forehead as he struggled to keep himself from burying his nose in the crook of her neck. He wanted to breathe her in and keep her there inside of himself. That’d be fucking great, her waking up to him sniffing her! She’d think he was a fucking pervert!

  He’d been alone so fucking long; the very idea of a mate scared the shit out of him. What if he fucked it up? What if she rejected him? What if he went fucking apeshit afterwards and they made him leave the Wardens? He frowned even harder.

  Fuck and damn again, Troy. How the fuck am I going to explain to Rex that this Witch is my mate? His bird bumped up against his subconscious. He knew the beast was mad as fuck at him for thinking ill of her. There was no way in hell his sweet mate was a Dark Witch. Her scent alone suggested otherwise.

  He’d always associated a Dark Witch’s scent with cough syrup, but this woman, hell, she smelled like temptation personified. Just thinking about the smoky whiskey and sweet caramel aroma imbued in her skin made him hard as fuck.

  He wished he still had his jeans or at least his underwear to cover him up as he bent and lifted her still frame off the hard, plywood floor.

  He walked her over to the far side of the room where an exposed pipe ran along the wall only to disappear beneath the floorboards. He actually fought with himself to release her, gently and slowly, back onto the cold floor.

  His Thunderbird barked at the indignity of it. Damn beast was more than a little possessive of her already. Troy couldn’t blame him. She deserved to be on silks, not some dusty and cracked floorboards. Fuck.

  His beast twitched and growled beneath his skin. Get a fucking grip, bird. We need to finish our mission. His Thunderbird fought him for control, the need to protect and provide for his mate almost overwhelmed the need to claim her.

  Get the book away from her. The evil inside of it is tainting the very air. Troy narrowed his eyes at the grimoire. He shook off the mating instinct and focused on his job. He needed to bring the book down to the secure box in the trunk of his SUV, but he couldn’t leave the luscious female unattended for long.

 

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