Witchmate (Skeleton Key) by Renee George, Skeleton Key Page A

the dancing flames.
    The most startling thing, Keir hadn’t sensed her in the room. Not even a hint. He’d believed until that moment that they were alone.
    He jumped up, fighting the scream in his muscles and put himself between Emma and the intruder. His fingers snapped and reshaped, his nails turning to razor sharp claws. “Stay back, witch.”
    “If I’d wanted to harm you, wolf king, I would have done it while you slept so peacefully in my bed.” She waved her hand. A soft light brightened the room. “Besides, you broke your back when the water hit you. If you keep moving around, you will do yourself more damage.
    A broken back would have taken months, maybe years, to heal. Wolfkind could heal most injuries if they weren’t fatal, but the process was slow and painful. “If my back was broken, how am I healed now?”
    “Spirit magic.”
    “I know little of that.”
    “You wouldn’t,” she said. “It’s a defensive magic used for healing, bolstering the power in others, energy, and so on. Spirit practitioners are effectively the backbone of our battles.”
    “Like a combat medic,” Emma said.
    “Exactly like that,” the witch replied. “Their magic is used to heal, wolf.”
    “Who are you?” Keir asked. “Why did you bring us here?”
    In the brighter light, Keir saw that the walls were a thick tangle of woven vines.
    Witchvine .
    “Yes.” The woman smiled sadly. “My home is made of wallen ivy.” She sat down in a rocking chair near the fireplace.
    This was no ordinary witch. In this room, her powers should have been non-existent. “How can you work your magic with this much witchvine surrounding you?”
    “It is my creation.”
    “What?” Alarms were sounding in Keir’s head. Who was the woman that she was powerful enough to not only practice witchcraft within the confines of a witchvine structure but to also claim she was the maker of the one true equalizer in the war against her kind? “Why would you do such a thing?”
    “My dear boy. For you.” She nodded to Keir. “And for her.” Her fingers flickered toward Emma. “Partially. The real reason was revenge, but the years have squashed my appetite for such indulgence.”
    “I don’t understand any of this,” Keir said. “Tell us who you are.”
    Emma slid her legs over the side of the bed. Keir sat down beside her, his hand relaxing as she twined her fingers in his. “I’m going to take a stab at name-that-woman and guess that this is the witch in the wood.”
    Keir narrowed his gaze on the woman. “She’s a fairytale, Emma. A myth.”
    “And yet.” The woman held her arms out and hands up in supplication and shrugged. “Here I am.”
    “Did you actually cry a river?” Emma asked.
    The woman laughed. “I did not.” She shook her head. “But there were days…”
    “Why did you bring us here, witch?” Keir growled the words. If this truly were the witch in the woods, then neither he nor Emma were safe.
    “I think what Keir means to say is thank you for taking care of us and keeping us safe while we were otherwise incapacitated.”
    Keir diverted an incredulous stare at Emma.
    She shrugged. “Kindness and gratitude never worsened a situation.”
    The woman chuckled. “You are not as I expected, Emma.”
    “You expected me?”
    “Yes, Emma. I’ve been expecting you for a hundred years.”
    Keir felt Emma stiffen. She leaned forward and peered at the witch. “Why do you look so familiar? I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
    The witch stood up and crossed the room. Keir went on alert but didn’t move against her. She’d been cordial up to this point, and she was powerful enough that if she’d wanted to hurt either of them, she could have while they slept.
    Emma suddenly jerked her hand from Keir’s. She shook her head, disbelief written all over her expression. “You have got to be kidding me.”
    “What?” Keir asked. “What is it?”
    “Lucinda Mowry.”
    The woman raised a brow.