Her hands trembled and clenched together in front of the engulfing leather jacket. “Witches are women.” She shook her head almost violently. “I mean, there’s no such thing as witches. Not magical ones. Sure, there’s the religion and all of that . . . but not bewitched witches. Not—”
He barked out a laugh. “Witches are male and female—just another race on earth. We employ quantum physics, as humans partially understand it, to alter matter when necessary. Like to create fire and throw plasma.” Vibrations of fear cascaded toward him, and he paused, scrutinizing her. No fear showed in her expression, but he was scaring the hell out of her. While he appreciated her ability to conceal her feelings, he didn’t want her afraid. “I won’t hurt you.”
She shoved wet hair off her forehead. “You need help. I can find you help.”
Ah. Denial. Okay, he could deal with that. Again, he held his bare arms out and slowly pivoted all around. “I don’t have any weapons. A lighter. Even a match, Alexandra.” He waited until she gulped and nodded before concentrating to alter particles and create an undulating blue ball of plasma on his right hand. “You should be able to do the same in not too much time. Maybe fifty years or so.”
She studied the ball of fire, his torso, and then finally his face. Her shoulders somehow moved even farther back. “Fine. I agree you can do something rare. Something new. So why is a triangle knot burned into my hip? That fireball is round, and so far I’ve only seen fire or round balls thrown by you.” Her voice remained soft and rational, even though complete denial glowed in her eyes.
He snuffed out the flames. “It’s a marking from the mating—a simple Celtic knot symbolizing our union. The symbol of my people, actually.”
She leaned back against the tree. “So you’re saying you, ah, witches mark your mates?” Disbelief echoed in her tones. She so was not believing him right now.
The rain continued to slash down and into pine boughs above them, which weakened and began to allow small drips through.
He nodded. “Yes. Well, human mates are marked. I do have a couple cousins who mated vampires, and you can’t scar a vampire unless he’s inches from death and somehow survives. I’m sure they burn their mates, but no scars.”
She coughed, and her head lifted. “Vampires?”
“Aye. More species roam this earth than you humans believe, sweetheart.” Should he tell her everything or ease her into reality? Judging by the widening of her pupils, she’d had enough of a shock. He rubbed the back of his neck, where tension gathered. “This complicates things.” The understatement nearly made him laugh out loud, but too much heat roared through him to be truly amused.
He. Had. Mated. Her.
The idea didn’t bring nearly as much panic as he would’ve thought. He eyed her and allowed the feelings coursing through him to take hold. Protectiveness. Possessiveness. Satisfaction. Maybe love. He’d known those who’d fallen in love immediately, and many were still together after centuries. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Wrong question. Way wrong question.
She paled further, her eyes widened, and she held both hands out as if to ward him off. “This is bullshit.”
He forced a gentle smile. “Forget it.” His left hand felt like it was on fire, and he shook it out, glancing down. Oh yeah. He held it out to show the mark on his lower palm. “We match.”
She slowly, really slowly, shook her head. “No.”
“Yes.” Man, there was a lot she didn’t know. “When a witch mates a human, the witch ends up with the brand on the hand and the human wherever the hand is during the bite.”
She squinted. “What if a witch mates a witch?”
Yeah, she was humoring him, but he couldn’t blame her. “They mark each other.”
“Ah.” She took a discrete step away from him. “Do vampires mark their mates?”
“Most vampires mate with a good bite to the neck, but there are other species out there who do brand and mate. I’ll give you the low-down later.” He only wanted to hit her with so much at one time.
Her brows furrowed. “Wait a minute.” She glanced at the ground, her thoughts ticking so fast he could almost hear them. “The fire weapon. Holy shit.”
Yeah, he figured she’d get to that once her mind calmed down. “Aye.”
Her head snapped up. “You all think you’re witches? Everyone throwing fire?”
“No.” He glanced around for his shirt and frowned at the wet, crumpled up mess on the ground. “Apollo, the damn drug, is created by melting down planekite, a mineral that harms witches and temporarily takes away our powers. It also gives humans a great high as well as witch-like powers before incinerating their organs.”
“Planekite?” she asked.
“Or phenakite . . . or a few other names. It’s mainly mined in Russia, although the mineral is found other places. The damn thing weakens witches and can eventually kill us.” He had to get her out of the rain before her lips turned any bluer. “Why don’t we go back inside to discuss this?”
She shoved her hands in the jacket pockets. “Fine.”
Good. He grabbed his shirt and turned toward the barely there trail. “Follow me, and if you need help, let me know.”