Witchmate (Skeleton Key) by Renee George, Skeleton Key
Authors: Renee George, Skeleton Key
Ads: Link
runaway tide.
Emma couldn’t regain control, and she lost altitude as well. “Keir!”
His face, half man-half wolf, wrenched with determination. His claws bit into her wrist, and he flung Emma the last five feet to the bank. The dominant force of the river, like a Tasmanian devil released from a cage, blasted Keir, twisting his body unnaturally when he catapulted himself into the air.
“No!” Emma collapsed as she tapped into the last of her power and yanked Keir the rest of the way to land. He lay sprawled on the jagged rocks. “Keir,” she cried out, dragging her useless legs behind her as the river rock shredded her black leggings. She dropped her backpack when she reached him.
The rushing water slowed until the only sounds Emma heard were the rhythmic movement of the current like a gentle rain and her own whimpers. The magic had taken more out of her than her body had been ready to give. She didn’t even have the strength to turn Keir over to check his breathing.
“Help me,” she whispered like a prayer, knowing she was on her own. Unable to hold her head up, she lowered it to Keir’s back.
“I am here with you, child,” an angelic voice replied. A prodigious amount of love and grief and hope filled Emma. She blinked her eyes open, the act more difficult than parting the river. A woman, tall and thin, with jet black hair, pale skin, and gray eyes appeared to be floating over Emma. Her white gown flowed as if carried upward by a gentle stream of air. A chill wind began to blow, raising gooseflesh on Emma’s arm. Was this what dying felt like?
“You are not dying, though I can understand why you think so,” the woman said. “You used more magic than I have felt in a very long time.”
She heard a hoarse, almost strangled voice, say, “Emma.” A wheezing cough proceeded movement beneath her. She heard her name again, but it sounded hollow as if she were in a tunnel. Her body involuntarily stiffened, and she felt herself rise from the ground. The rocks ceased their relentless digging into her skin.
“Rest now, child.”
Emma curled up as if cradled by the strange woman’s voice. “Keir,” she whispered.
“Rest,” the woman insisted. “Rest now.”
Chapter Twelve
Every muscle and bone in Keir’s body ached. The straw mattress crinkled as he rolled to his side. Emma lay next to him. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, natural rhythm. He breathed a sigh of relief. They’d made it across the river alive.
The blanket over them scratched at his skin. He lifted the cover. He’d been redressed in a cream-colored pair of soft cotton pants. Emma wore a white dressing gown. Had she managed to find them shelter and fresh clothes? And how? He’d never seen anything like the magic she’d used at the river.
Her command of magic would make her a major target with both wolfkind and the witches. His people would want her dead, and the witches would want to use her to finally defeat the wolves. Neither situation was acceptable.
“Emma,” he said. He gently shook her shoulder. “Emma, wake up.”
She stirred under his touch. “Keir.” She turned her head and opened her eyes.
Normally dark blue, they had turned the color of a bright afternoon sky. Keir tried to hide his shock at the transformation. “Do you feel well?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Stiff and sore, but no worse for wear.” He cupped her cheek. “Thanks to you. I still don’t know how you managed to get me out of the water and here.” He forced a smile and gestured to the cozy room. “Where ever here is.”
“I…” Emma quickly sat up, holding the blanket to her chest, and looked around. “I didn’t bring us here.”
“I brought you here.” The soft-spoken voice startled both Keir and Emma. A fire flared in the hearth across the room. A woman stood near the flames, her black hair plaited in a braid over her right shoulder, and her white gown reflected the oranges and yellows of
Emma couldn’t regain control, and she lost altitude as well. “Keir!”
His face, half man-half wolf, wrenched with determination. His claws bit into her wrist, and he flung Emma the last five feet to the bank. The dominant force of the river, like a Tasmanian devil released from a cage, blasted Keir, twisting his body unnaturally when he catapulted himself into the air.
“No!” Emma collapsed as she tapped into the last of her power and yanked Keir the rest of the way to land. He lay sprawled on the jagged rocks. “Keir,” she cried out, dragging her useless legs behind her as the river rock shredded her black leggings. She dropped her backpack when she reached him.
The rushing water slowed until the only sounds Emma heard were the rhythmic movement of the current like a gentle rain and her own whimpers. The magic had taken more out of her than her body had been ready to give. She didn’t even have the strength to turn Keir over to check his breathing.
“Help me,” she whispered like a prayer, knowing she was on her own. Unable to hold her head up, she lowered it to Keir’s back.
“I am here with you, child,” an angelic voice replied. A prodigious amount of love and grief and hope filled Emma. She blinked her eyes open, the act more difficult than parting the river. A woman, tall and thin, with jet black hair, pale skin, and gray eyes appeared to be floating over Emma. Her white gown flowed as if carried upward by a gentle stream of air. A chill wind began to blow, raising gooseflesh on Emma’s arm. Was this what dying felt like?
“You are not dying, though I can understand why you think so,” the woman said. “You used more magic than I have felt in a very long time.”
She heard a hoarse, almost strangled voice, say, “Emma.” A wheezing cough proceeded movement beneath her. She heard her name again, but it sounded hollow as if she were in a tunnel. Her body involuntarily stiffened, and she felt herself rise from the ground. The rocks ceased their relentless digging into her skin.
“Rest now, child.”
Emma curled up as if cradled by the strange woman’s voice. “Keir,” she whispered.
“Rest,” the woman insisted. “Rest now.”
Chapter Twelve
Every muscle and bone in Keir’s body ached. The straw mattress crinkled as he rolled to his side. Emma lay next to him. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, natural rhythm. He breathed a sigh of relief. They’d made it across the river alive.
The blanket over them scratched at his skin. He lifted the cover. He’d been redressed in a cream-colored pair of soft cotton pants. Emma wore a white dressing gown. Had she managed to find them shelter and fresh clothes? And how? He’d never seen anything like the magic she’d used at the river.
Her command of magic would make her a major target with both wolfkind and the witches. His people would want her dead, and the witches would want to use her to finally defeat the wolves. Neither situation was acceptable.
“Emma,” he said. He gently shook her shoulder. “Emma, wake up.”
She stirred under his touch. “Keir.” She turned her head and opened her eyes.
Normally dark blue, they had turned the color of a bright afternoon sky. Keir tried to hide his shock at the transformation. “Do you feel well?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“Stiff and sore, but no worse for wear.” He cupped her cheek. “Thanks to you. I still don’t know how you managed to get me out of the water and here.” He forced a smile and gestured to the cozy room. “Where ever here is.”
“I…” Emma quickly sat up, holding the blanket to her chest, and looked around. “I didn’t bring us here.”
“I brought you here.” The soft-spoken voice startled both Keir and Emma. A fire flared in the hearth across the room. A woman stood near the flames, her black hair plaited in a braid over her right shoulder, and her white gown reflected the oranges and yellows of
Similar Books
