Free Witch’s Concubine by Cara Carnes

until Dmitri’s father’s reign. Most residing within the sanded foothills were political refugees clawing and scratching toward one objective: to destroy the royal bloodline.
    “Surely there’s another healer,” Alonzo stated.
    “Not one strong enough to do what must be done.” Dmitri increased his speed, noting her slowing pulse rate. “And no one with enough balls to defy my father.”
    Macy would live. No matter the recourse, she would thrive.  
    Unseen souls, devoid of any thought but survival and vengeance watched from a distance. Their hatred flowed freely, but they stayed away.
    “They’re too weak to take us both,” Alonzo commented.
    “More likely their leader demanded the right,” Dmitri responded. “Vow to me that no matter what occurs here you will get her help. Take her to Petra, and do what you must to get the treatment.”
    Alonzo’s jaw twitched. Resentment reflected in his eyes, but a curt nod sealed the pact.
    Macy would live.
    Dmitri continued up the hill to a dilapidated structure built of bone, mud, and residual debris. Shrapnel scattered the area, useless trinkets grabbed in desperation. Nothing contained value in this land. Only blood.
    He paused several yards away. “She doesn’t have the time to play your games, Zivon.”
    The man stepped out of the structure, large arms crossed, a glower on his scarred face. “You surprise me, Dmitri. I thought you were smart enough not to come back after the last time.”
    “Heal her. We will deal with the payment afterward.”
    The man stepped closer. His bored gaze regarded Macy. “The witch is dying.”
    “Heal her.”
    “It will require much strength.” Greed saturated his aura. “The payment will be great.”
    “I’d be worried if it wasn’t.”
    Zivon sighed. “Follow me.” He paused and pointed at Alonzo. “He stays outside.”
    “He stays with her.” Dmitri tensed. “That is my demand.”
    “Very well.” Zivon moved inside.
    A small flame flickered to life in the corner. Zivon chuckled. “She is a dragon witch. Interesting.”
    Dmitri remained silent. Macy moaned in pain when he set her down, moving toward him.
    “So cold,” she whispered.
    Her skin raged with fire. Dmitri stood beside her and forced his attention on Zivon. If the healer sensed the concern and emotion within him, Macy would suffer.
    “You can heal her?”
    Zivon sat beside her and moved his hands above her body. Power flickered between the two. The man paused, his eyes widened. “She is cursed.”
    “Yes.”
    “I assume you’d like that handled as well.”
    “Might as well get my blood’s worth.” Dmitri settled into acceptance. “You can heal her?”
    “I can.” Zivon stood, moving to a cabinet. He mixed a couple of jars with a vile of liquid. “Tell me how she came to be this way.”
    “I know little of the curse.”
    “Not that. I recognize that bitch Morva’s work by now. Enough vampires have come to me stricken with her toxic concoctions.” Zivon settled beside Macy and grasped her head. Dmitri tensed at the man’s touch, but remained still. “Tell me how she came into such power.”
    Morva. The witch his father had enslaved had proven a difficult rival these past few years. Her power had amassed, rotted into evil that his father manipulated like a puppeteer would a prized toy.
    “So Macy somehow became a threat to my father.”
    “It would be one of the only plausible reasons for her to be cursed by the witch he enslaves.” Zivon shrugged. “Or perhaps Morva simply felt threatened by Macy’s powers. They are tremendous.”
    “Neither my father nor his bitch will get near Macy.”
    “What happened to her today?” Zivon asked.
    Providing information to the healer went against Dmitri’s normally cautious approach to situations. Knowledge was power in this realm. But the healer had provided the face of Macy’s enemy. Thanks to Zivon, he knew exactly who meant her harm.
    Now all he needed to do was figure out why. Either