Supernatural Seduction (Book 2 of the Coffin Girls Series) (22 page)

“I know,” Sylvain acknowledged. “But I’ve
taken measures to ensure that she can handle them. She’s been
training with Arianna.”

“Then why…?” She asked, and then remained
perplexed. Then her brows rose as realization dawned. “Marianne was
not a strong empath. She had skill, but Arianna was still much more
powerful than her. So, you’re thinking that if your witch-vamp is
as strong as you think she is, even the training won’t be enough to
save her.

“Again, Sylvain, you don’t know that. Based
on something beyond your control of which you are completely unsure
of, you are willing to put yourself through this?” She waved a hand
at him. “If you are feeling this way, brother, then she must be
too. Is that something you can stomach? It doesn’t make sense to
protect your heart from hurt when it is already hurting.”

“At least she lives,” Sylvain bit out.

“So, if she isn’t with you, she’ll live
longer?” Vérène continued to hit the nail on the head. “That’s
arrogant, even for you. Last time I checked, we did not possess the
Godly powers of Fate or Mortality.”

“Last time I checked,” Sylvain retaliated,
“you did not have the right to come into my home. Let alone come
here and start meddling in something that is of no concern to
you!”

She shrugged, “Sure, go to your usual MO.
Make this about me and not about you. That’s extremely fucking
mature.”

“What do you want, Vérène?”

“I told you,” she admonished. “But, maybe you
are too drunk to listen.” She got up and began pacing the room in
frustration. “I don’t know why I did, but I felt you were in pain
and that you needed help. Since our meeting in the throne room, our
connection has been a bit stronger. Meaning I feel your pain, you
fucking moron! Uurgh! Why couldn’t I have had a sister? Why the
freaking hell did I get stuck with an idiotic, stubborn, douche bag
of a man for a brother?!” She walked towards him, grabbed the drink
out of his hand and took a large gulp, then handed him the glass
back again.

“Love you too,” he muttered at her. He used
magick to fill the glass up.

“No, you don’t,” she rectified. “You might
have once before, but you haven't since Marianne died.” She shook
her head. “But that’s not why I’m here. I came to save you and it
is obvious that I have to knock some sense into you instead.

Sylvain glared at his sister. “It is easier
to speak of moving on, to accept your reasoning, if you have never
lost.” He saw his sister stiffen. It might have been for a
millisecond, but it was long enough for him to pick it up. He sat
back, regarding her in surprise. She was right. Since their
tentative reunion in the throne room, he had been feeling her more
than he had previously. And, now, he felt her strength, buckets of
it. But, underneath, there was some heavily buried sadness. “You
have lost. I’m sorry, sister. Despite our estrangement, I do not
want you to hurt.”

“Our estrangement, as you so put it, Sylvain,
is another classical example of how pigheaded you can be and how
difficult you find it to let go. To trust. Never mind our
estrangement. I waited for you to speak to me for the first five
hundred years. When you didn’t, I gave up. The two thousand five
hundred years since has proven what a sanctimonious jackass you
are. I know you will not move on from what happened with us and
Marianne. But again, that’s not the point. Also, despite what you
think, sitting here, feeling sorry for yourself, what has happened
with the witch-vamp isn’t the issue. The issue is you. You really
need to stop feeling as though you have to take care of
everyone.”

He lifted a sardonic brow at her. “Oh, you
know what I mean,” she responded to the gesture, growling in
frustration. “We each are responsible for our subjects - their
welfare, the fae race, and magick, but we are not responsible for
their personal lives - matters of their hearts. That is something
the bitch-Goddess cursed us with.”

“Curse?” Sylvain interjected, puzzled.

“Never mind that,” she waved his question
away. A bit too quickly, he thought.

“Brother, if you really care about her, you
need to sort yourself out.” He continued to scowl at her, clearly
unappreciative of the fact that she’d left her own kingdom to come
to his freaking rescue. “I’m so done with this. You’re a grown
fucking man or you should be and I am not going to bloody babysit
you.” Before he could say that he never asked her to, she glared at
him and spat out, “Grow a pair, brother.”

Vérène left as abruptly as she’d entered,
leaving Sylvain again in darkness. Damn if he wasn’t more pissed
off now than before she’d arrived. Fucking women! Why the hell did
they have to complicate every darn thing around them?!

“We’ve discovered another group of captured,
young witches,” Anais’ voice came through on the speakerphone.
Sylvain and Sophie were seated on opposite sides of the large desk
in the plantation library. Sophie’s plans to avoid meeting Sylvain
had been thwarted when Anais had called her, asking her to contact
Sylvain and request his help on another rescue mission. Sophie was
still alone at the plantation with Miss Suzette. Rose had opted to
stay at the Quarter house as much of her time was taken attending
to business there. With everyone else off somewhere on magickal or
witch-vamp business, it really left her and Sylvain to see to
this.

Sophie glanced at Sylvain. As always, when
she looked at him, her breath caught. He tugged at places in her
heart that were still sore from their break up. His demeanor was
grave, as could be expected from the topic of conversation. His
pallor was ashen - the kind of pale that came from too little
sleep.

“They’re being held somewhere in Ohio - on a
farm,” Anais continued.

“There are a lot of farms in Ohio,” Sylvain
interrupted. “Have you narrowed it down?”

“I’ve had contact with the girls,” Anais
replied. “Some spell-casting took care of the rest. So, yes, I do
know which farm.”

“Is it like the others?” Sophie asked.

“No, fortunately not,” replied Anais. “No
active torture or draining. From what I heard from these witches,
they’re alone. Abandoned. Small mercies if they starve to death or
die without care given to restore them from previous tortures. I
suspect that their guards may have been called to the stronghold
here when we battled Akeldonna.”

“They were sure of their success.” Sophie
observed. “What are you worried about, Anais?”

“There was something off with the girls,”
Anais replied. “I’m not sure what. As far as I could tell, they are
genuine witches their need to get out is real.”

“We did a magickal scan,” Conall spoke into
the phone. “It’s not a trap, but Anais is right. They’re not right.
We think they might be on the verge of madness.”

“That’s not really too far-fetched,” Sophie
responded. “Given what we’ve seen the vamps do to these girls, I’m
surprised at the strength they have to hold on as long as they've
had to. We have to move now and fast.” She knew a bit about the
horrors of captivity and could relate.

“I agree,” Sylvain stated and received the
same sentiment echoed by Anais and Conall. “We’ll take
reinforcements,” Sylvain stated. “Just to be safe. I’ll arrange for
some of my warriors to accompany us. They’ve been idle for too
long. They enjoyed the first rescue mission, so they’ll be jumping
up to volunteer. I’ll take the best of them.” He realized two
things - he had been protecting his subjects, his warriors from
engaging in what they’d been created to do and he was not taking
chances with Sophie. The protection of his warriors might be going
overboard, but he would rather do that than risk her safety.

He excused himself to make the arrangements
for a group of warriors to teleport to the plantation. On
reentering the room, he stood for a moment and watched her.
Goddess, she was stunning. He thought back to when he had arrived
at the plantation for this meeting. He had been early and decided
to walk from the portal through the bayou, needing the time to
think. He passed by the newly constructed school buildings where
she had been speaking to one of the witch tutors. His sensitive
hearing had picked up a lively debate on what course to follow with
the girls’ magickal herbology training. She had looked happy,
animated, - beautiful. The Sophie he was used to seeing, not the
Sophie who had walked away from him with tears on her lashes and
pain in her eyes.

He had felt an uncomfortable stab in the
vicinity of his heart, but it confirmed that what he was doing was
right. She needed a simple, honest witch, like the tutor. As much
as it made him want to kill the man, he was a much better match for
her. Life with Sylvain would only cause her more pain. This mission
was going to be hell. Sure, he was prepared for the girls and the
fury he would feel at what they’d been put through. The hell was
going to have to be so close to Sophie when all he wanted to do was
keep her safe and not have her go into danger.

xxx

They stood among acres of wheat, nearly
hidden by the long golden shafts. “This isn’t quite what I was
expecting,” Sophie stated in surprise. Sophie and Sylvain,
accompanied by his warriors, had been given the magickal
coordinates of the girls’ location.

Sylvain grinned, “Definitely not the bayou’s
kind of nature.” He nodded his head towards the north. “There’s a
farmhouse a few miles up the road.”

Sophie looked baffled. How the heck did he
see that? He was certainly taller than her, but he wasn’t a
giant.

Letting out a soft laugh, Sylvain leaned in
and whispered, “Faery sight. We see things that others want to
hide.” Moving closer to Sophie had been a mistake, even if it had
been an involuntary action. Despite the space between them, he
could feel the heat from her body sear him and evoke a myriad of
memories he wanted forgotten. Cursing himself, Sylvain abruptly
stepped back from her.

Sophie swallowed. Clearing her throat, she
croaked out the first thing that came to mind, “Good thing I’m
wearing the proper shoes. Let’s go, then.”

Sylvain felt his warriors hesitate, staring
in confusion at Sophie. Resigned to his painful fate, he grabbed
hold of Sophie’s arm to stop her. “No need to walk. We can fly.
It’s quicker and will allow us to scope out the area.”

He didn’t give her an opportunity to protest.
He swept her in his arms, crushed her against his chest, and took
to the sky.

Sophie experienced that uneasy feeling of
taking off from the ground without anything to steady you on. She
had no choice, but to hold onto Sylvain - with a death grip. “I
thought you said you didn’t have wings - like Tinker Bell.”

Now Sylvain roared with laughter; sputtering
instead of speaking as he struggled to get the words out.

“Stop that,” Sophie admonished, “I don’t want
to fall for freak’s sake.”

“Sorry,” he grinned at her - not sorry at
all. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he quickly deflected the
angry bout, “Do I look like Tinker Bell?”

Sophie looked past him towards where
enormous, glistening wings sprouted from his back. Like his true
form, they were beautiful. It was like looking at the watery-mist
surrounding a waterfall as the sun reflected a multitude of colors
off it. Despite their fragile appearance, the wings whipped
powerfully through the air, carrying them both.

“Okay,” Sophie acknowledged, “not Tinker
Bell. But definitely pretty.”

“Warms my heart to hear you call me pretty,”
Sylvain’s lips curved roguishly at her. “I’d prefer handsome or
dashing but I can live with pretty.”

It was one of the many masks of Sylvain,
Sophie noted. The jovial fae prince was back - flirting and teasing
in order to keep things going. The reticence she’d felt earlier was
still there, but exceptionally well hidden beneath his current
façade. She could, for the sake of the mission, and their
friendship, go along with this. “You know darned well that’s not
what I meant,” Sophie muttered. “Why didn’t you tell us you could
fly?”

“There wasn’t any reason to,” he shrugged.
“There is much that I can do but just because I can, doesn’t mean
that I always do it. And because I can see you’re going to ask it,
the answer is no. I’m not keeping secrets - at least not from you
guys. I’ve lived millennia, Sophie, there’s a lot I’ve seen, a lot
I’ve learned, so swapping social stories about my background will
take a long time to tell. I just let things roll and go with it -
it’s easier that way.”

The mask had momentarily slipped and in its
place was sincerity. It was unexpected given their not too distant
parting. But, the sky was not the place to probe, so she remained
quiet until their descent and surveyed their surroundings. She saw
the farmhouse that Sylvain had seen and sighed with relief.
Unfortunately, with the relief came a lessening of her anxiety and
an increase in awareness of his close proximity. She looked up and
caught his eye, the dark look clearly communicating that he knew
what she was feeling. Feeling uncomfortable, Sophie wiggled,
inadvertently rubbing herself against his chest. A strangled moan
escaped him and she felt an odd mix of both irritation and
satisfaction.

“If you don’t want me to drop you, you better
stop doing that,” Sylvain warned through clenched teeth.

Sophie abruptly stopped and looked around,
rebuking herself. They were there on a mission. Somewhere on this
property were a group of girls who needed to be rescued. But she
knew that they obviously had to talk before they could move on as
friends. Sophie grudgingly admitted her naivety in thinking that
she could break things off and they would go back to what they'd
had. Now was not the time to have that chat though.

They landed softly, easily; taking refuge
behind a row of trees that served as a fire barrier. Sylvain’s fae
warriors, gorgeous specimens of manhood in their own right, came
towards them. Sylvain's, demeanor was serious, and it showed her
another side of him as he discussed their strategy with his men. He
was an admirable leader. It was clear that they listened to him and
respected him because he showed them the same courtesy and
considered their input as much as they did his. Still, it was he
that led - they’d followed him here unquestionably, going in
blindly as Anais had not been able to identify the details of this
environment - only its location.