Free The Calling by Nina Croft

keep, meaning to have a meeting with Malachi and be out of there by nightfall. Instead, he had seen one of the pleasure slaves. His world had tilted on its axis, and everything had changed. But he wasn’t sure she was ready to hear that.
    Freya had been eighteen at the time, so beautiful his heart had ached just gazing upon her. She hadn’t noticed him, hadn’t noticed much, and for the first time he really studied the pleasure slaves.
    Red-hot rage had engulfed him as he realized what had been done to them. He’d almost stormed in to see Malachi, but held himself back. Once Jarrod had been the stronger; now he was no longer sure he could take on Malachi and survive. Instead, he’d gone to Malachi and told him he wanted the slave. Malachi had seemed amused, but had made him a deal. He could have Freya for his exclusive use, but he must impregnate her for the Order’s breeding program. So he’d promised and planned.
    And she had run out on him.
    He turned to look at her now and pain welled in his heart. She was changing, coming alive before his eyes. But would she hate him or love him once the transition was complete? In the end, would she choose him?
    “Enough stories,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
    ~*~
    They left the horse tethered in the forest and made their way on foot. The village was a prosperous one, but strangely silent, even for nighttime. Freya led him through the empty streets, keeping to the outskirts, and finally knocked at the back door of one of the bigger houses. No one answered and there was no sign of light through the windows.
    She turned to him and shrugged. “Maybe there’s a village meeting. Come, we’ll go look.”
    “Wait a moment.” He leaned toward her and pulled up the hood of her cloak, hiding her cheek with the incriminating witch’s mark.
    A prickle of awareness ran down his spine. He had a bad feeling about this, and as they neared the center of the village, his sense of unease grew. He wanted to pull Freya back and get out of there, but she was hurrying ahead.
    Flickering torches lit up the village square. The space was crammed with people; the whole village must be there. Freya had come to a halt in the shadows surrounding the meeting place. Jarrod came up beside her and rested a hand on her arm, determined to stop her if she made to move forward.
    “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
    The words were shouted, rising above the noise of the crowd, and for a moment, he thought Freya had been spotted. Then he realized a man was standing on a podium at the front of the square. Jarrod recognized him as a young warlock from the Order. They must be sending emissaries out to all the surrounding villages.
    A low murmur of voices filled the air.
    “We need to get out of here,” Jarrod whispered.
    “No. We need to speak to Darren. Just don’t act suspicious.” She pulled the cloak tighter around her and stepped away from the shelter of the buildings. Jarrod swore under his breath; he had no choice but to follow her. She weaved her way through the mass of people coming to a halt beside a tall, lean man with a shock of dark red hair.
    Jarrod’s whole body stiffened as she placed a hand on the man’s arm, and he had to stifle the urge to tear her away from him.
    Mine.
    The word reverberated through his mind, and he gritted his teeth to prevent himself from shouting it out loud.
    The man’s eyes widened as he recognized Freya. He didn’t speak, but nodded and then turned and pushed his way through the crowd.
    Freya followed with Jarrod dogging her heels.
    They stopped in an alley, between two low-rise buildings, where they could still see the meeting, but far enough distant so their words wouldn’t be overheard.
    “Freya.” The man reached for her and pulled her into his arms, and Jarrod couldn’t prevent the low growl trickling from his throat.
    The man didn’t release her, but at least he put Freya from him, held her at arm’s length, and studied her. Lifting back the