Free Summon by Penelope Fletcher

strained despondency. “We should discuss
the future. Don’t you think?”

 
    CHAPTER SEVEN

 
 
    Lochlann

 
    Daphne
made a show of centring her focus on Kian. The Knight was tall. Her head barely
reached his collarbone, and she smiled when he slung his arm over her
shoulders, slumped, sighed, and leaned his considerable weight. Dark eyes
rolling to look at her, his lips twitched when her smile dimmed in
exasperation.
    Daphne’s eyes gleamed as they flicked to me. “The
witches are dead.” I schooled my face not to crease in amusement at her evident
satisfaction. “I can’t figure out why though.”
    Idly playing with one of her braids, Kian’s face
tightened. “The Houngan drained them.”
    She shuddered. “The corpses do look gaunt.”
    “We should not have trusted him.”
    “He wasn’t trusted.” Daphne pinched Kian’s side.
“The witch said we needed him.”
    When he chuckled, she grinned again.
    Feeling my chest tighten at the playful exchange, I
cleared my throat.
    Daphne’s gaze met mine then slipped away. “How are
you doing, Lochlann?”
    I was exhausted. I fed the magics of my people to
the witch for her spell. The circle sucked on my power when the spirits rose,
but I staunched the flow before I’d become trapped. The dead witches either
hadn’t had enough power to protect themselves, or were unable to retain control
in the face of darkness greater than them.
    “Fine,” I replied. I felt Kian’s eyes on me. “You
will address me by my title, vampire.”
    She snorted, and I felt her embarrassment.
    An awkward silence fell.
    “Well, I am dead on my feet.” Kian offered his arm
to Daphne. “I have an earthen cellar beneath my dwelling you’re welcome to.
Sunrise is a scant hour from the horizon.”
    Gazing at him trustingly, Daphne curled her arm
around his and tossed a scornful look in my direction.
    Jealousy crawled up my spine.
    Kian touched the vampire with such ease. I’d told
the fairy to watch her during the battle, so my jangled nerves stopped baiting
me to find and protect her, not so the Knight would befriend her.
    Daphne confounded me. My greatest shame was because
of her. Even that paled in comparison to what I let her do earlier when she’d
risen.
    The ghost of her body beneath my hands still made
my fingers twitch. Long after I released my hold on her waist I felt her
pressing lips and sharp teeth. A shiver of pleasure shimmied through me at the
remembered sensation. She’d not taken much. In a shy voice that set my ears
tingling, she’d confessed she wished me at full strength for the resurrection.
    My gaze drifted towards her, but I made them pass
quickly as if she were some insignificant thing skulking for favour.
    I’m losing
my mind.
    Flustered, and without a word to either of them, I
left, and followed Conall down the main pathway leading deeper into the Wyld.
The Warrior made short work of the journey to his dwelling, and I jogged to
catch up.
    Turning a bend, I found Conall waiting for me at
the base of his tree. He must have heard my harried footfalls. “Are you too
tired to speak with me?”
    Weary, Conall smiled. He adjusted his hold on Ana.
“Let me put her to bed.”
    Hands to hips, I drummed my fingers in impatience,
waiting for him to see to the witch. Time not spent doing something important
seemed wasteful, but I needed to unburden my mind.
    I trusted no one more than Conall.
    He trod down the steps carved into the tree, his
expressive face closed and drawn. I wasn’t the only one using the last of my
reserves. His unique gold eyes were sunken and void of sparkle.
    After we spoke, I’d order him to rest. Conall was
stubborn. If I left him to his own devices, he’d neglect his needs, and work
without sleep until he collapsed, or cracked under pressure.
    It took me some time to straighten my tangled
thoughts into something understandable. My tongue burned as I spoke the words
troubling me. “I hurt.” I briefly closed my eyes. There was no