Indigo only had enough time to warn a couple of shifters before they were on her in an instant.
Then she was running for her life.
She tried to find areas that weren’t really occupied, not wanting to bring the fight to the other shifters who were probably not warriors but just innocent civilians here. Most of the black witches followed her, but some trailed off and into certain shifter territories, where screams of horror and chaos followed. She knew what they would do—use their magic to enter the minds of shifters like they did hers, giving them nightmares and visions of darkness until they fainted from it. Hurting them. The air reeked of their energy, and she knew all they needed to do to stop the shifters from shifting was close that energy in and choke the life out of them.
If they shifted and gathered around, they could help stop the witches. But the witches would ensure that wouldn’t happen, so that part was all set for them.
And Indigo?
She was the only one standing in the way of whatever their goddamned plan was.
Instinct told her to leave—to open a portal up and never return because this fight wasn’t even hers. But she fought that instinct to survive, which always got her through situations like this. She fought it and fought back, going against her own norm as she kept running.
She was staying here.
She was going to help.
Flashbacks of her fight with the witch in the cabin came to mind, and her own response to it chilled her to the bone. The witch had tried to close in that energy on her, but her own energy had fought back until she managed to choke the witch—enough to make the malicious creature lose consciousness. Xian had been there, barging into the cabin to tell Dean—but the sight had him stopping instead.
Before Indigo could explain, she sensed more energy approaching and made a last-second decision: she raced away and used her energy to call the witches’ attention away from the main living area.
Away from Xian.
Now here she was, with no clue what to do and panic brewing in her heart. Her running reached a halt when she was met by a cliff, one that fell down to fog and darkness. Indigo took a deep breath.
Then she turned around to face them.
They stopped a few meters away from her, their movements eerily unified. She let her energy surround her, coating her like it did on the island, like a shell—a protection that she knew wouldn’t last long. But it was the only option, and Indigo held on to that as she tried to keep their attention for as long as she could.
She focused on her magic, then focused on the witches. They were watching her with equal parts fascination and hunger, and she could almost feel it touching her. Wisps formed, surrounding her in the same playful manner they did before, but it didn’t stop her from shuddering at the cloying feeling they gave off.
She didn’t have a plan. She didn’t know what to do other than protect herself, because her magic wasn’t enough to even give them a significant hit. All she could do was distract them, but these witches were smart and would see right through it if she did the obvious.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement behind the cloaked forms and felt her heart almost stop beating. They were shadows at first behind the trees, but her magic allowed her gaze to see even if she wasn’t looking in that direction.
She saw Xian’s dark eyes.
She saw Dean’s golden ones.
A cold sweat started forming down her back, but Indigo tried to keep her expression unchanging. Focused. She willed herself to keep working on her protective shell, willed the witches to not turn around. Any false move, any slight noise, and those shifters advancing from behind would be dead.
And all hope would be lost.
The decision for her came clear as day, and she went with it. Slowly, she thinned the protective shell around her bit by bit, secretly directing her magic elsewhere—to be more specific, behind the witches to block their senses and hearing coming from that certain direction. She felt the wisps shuffle in glee, as if they sensed her magic weakening.
They cracked through her protective shell.
Those wisps surrounded her, traveling around her body and prodding her pores. They entered in her bloodstream, then traveled up her brain until she felt the horrible darkness surrounding her again. Pain slid in, like softer needles, but needles all the same. They pricked in all directions, then twisted experimentally until tears started forming and sliding down her cheeks.
A soundless scream came out of her, but she choked on it and choked on her own blood.
The wisps gathered around her ankle bones, wrapping around them slyly. She felt them crack, then break, and she slid down her knees. A sob rose out of her as her magic wavered, but she held it still with whatever strength she had left.
The shifters, already behind their chosen witches, began to pounce.
Indigo pushed her magic one last time, giving them whatever she could lend. She watched them jump on the witch’s backs and tear the bodies apart. The witches weren’t ready, their dark magic flying all over the place before snapping into death.
It snapped Indigo almost in half, too, and she finally screamed.
Then she closed her eyes as the pain took over.
*****
Indigo.
Wake up.
You’re stronger than this.
The voice floated in her mind for a long time. Sometimes it was light and casual, and other times it was playful. There were times when it was full of agony, then anger, as the voice kept telling her to wake up—to open her eyes, to see the light, to come back. Even with the different variations of words, even with the different tones, one thing remained.
It was always the same voice.
Her mind latched on to that familiarity, even while her body and soul floated into oblivion. She was so tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to sleep for a long time and forget about the world, because the world was pointless, anyway.
Something inside her fought it. It took her a while to understand that it was her energy—whatever energy left stored in her was fighting that need to sleep and trying to pull her back up, which in turn annoyed her and made her fight back.
It was a constant push and pull, one that was tiring. But the voice talking to her soothed her, like a warm balm coating her with sunshine. Slowly, it removed her desire to sleep, replaced by excitement as she stopped fighting the pull.
Instead, she slowly worked with it.
The first touch of light on her eyes brought her back, and she blinked them repeatedly against it.
The sound of the voice telling her goodnight made her open them, where she was bombarded with…a night lamp.
Indigo blinked, her senses trying to catch up to her waking moment. She looked around and found a ceiling she recognized—her own ceiling in her own marketplace bar. But her bed didn’t feel the same, and as her senses came back, she realized that wasn’t the only thing different.
It smelled different, too.
She tried to place it at first. Then it bombarded her almost immediately with recognition, and Indigo found herself shooting up in a sitting position as she glanced around the room.
The pain that lanced down her ribs had her muttering a curse and crashing back down in bed with a quiet groan. But it didn’t stop her from staring at the space beside her, where she found Dean’s man form steadily breathing. Unable to believe he was actually there, she narrowed her eyes and gathered her energy up.
Then she poked him with it.
He shot up right away. Dean’s head whipped in her direction, golden eyes pinning her in place. The shock she saw in his expression told her that there was a lot she missed out on. She scanned her mind for the questions, then started with the one that mattered the most.
“The black witches?”
“They’re all dead. At least, the ones who invaded.”
“And your people?”
“Some are dead. But we managed to save the others in time. My father…he orchestrated everything. Sean killed him.”
Her eyes widened at the knowledge, unprepared for it. The shock of it hit her straight in the chest. Then realization dawned that he must have found out through confrontation, and her hand went to his arm.
“Dean…”
Dean shook his head. “It had to be done. He would have killed me if Sean hadn’t come in time.”
He made it sound matter-of-fact, but she could see the pain in his eyes and knew it wasn’t as simple as that. She did the only thing she could think of at the moment. Indigo ignored the pain in her ribs.
Then she pulled him close and hugged him tightly.
The action stilled him for a second, which had horror entering her when she realized he probably didn’t want a hug. She’d never done hugs before, either, but the urge to comfort him was strong, and she went with instinct. She tried to pull away now, embarrassed and ready to apologize.
“I know what it meant to you. I know your father—” Her sentence ended in a squeak when he pulled her back in and settled her on his lap. Indigo froze when he looked into her eyes intensely, almost as if searching for something.
“Indigo, it’s been a month. You’ve been asleep for a month now.”
Shock hit her again at his words. She reeled back, but he held on as she processed the information, which had her shaking. Then the revelation came.
“You’ve been taking care of me for a month.” It wasn’t a question, because she could see it in the room now—his shirt on a chair, the bed now big enough for both of them. His scent.
Dean looked at her quietly before he nodded. “Your bar needed tending.” His thumb brushed her cheek, angling her face until she could look at him fully.
“But with your father gone…the elder status…your home…”
“I’ve been there a couple of times. But it’s no longer home.”
She nodded, her mouth dry. “I understand.”
“Sean’s vying for elder position, and I think he’ll do well. He more than earned it. Indigo…I thought I lost you.” He buried his head on her shoulder and inhaled her, a deep sigh escaping his lips. It had her shivering, but it wasn’t the awful kind.
In fact, there was nothing awful about it at all.
“I’m right here,” she muttered, leaning against him. “I’m alive. All because of you guys.”
“And we’re alive because of you,” he murmured. “It was stupid.”
“Maybe. But I wouldn’t have changed that decision for the world.”
“Indigo…” He sighed again, and it was a sigh full of feeling.
“I understand, Dean,” she whispered, her heart practically bursting.
In fact, she understood perfectly well what he was trying to say, even when he wasn’t exactly saying it. Impatience simmered in her bones, and she didn’t want to wait any longer. Obviously, Dean was trying to treat her like some kind of goddamned princess—and there was only one way to fix that.
He tried to gently push her off. “Well, there’s gonna be food downstairs, so—”
Indigo stubbornly sat back on his lap, watching his eyes widen.
Then she pulled his head down and pressed her mouth against his.
The reaction was instantaneous—Dean pulling her closer and opening his mouth to kiss her deeper. She reveled in it, joy filling her that it was his voice that pulled her back. She didn’t know how badly her magic was damaged, didn’t know how much she wore herself out over it. But it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t important.
What was important was this.
Him.
She felt heat building in her body and turn it throbbing as the kiss escalated, and she could feel his hunger straight down her core. Dizzy, she pulled back and rested her head on his shoulder.
“I’ve got a gallery in SoHo,” he rasped, his breathing erratic.
“I know.”
“I was hoping you’d stay with me from time to time.”
“From time to time?”
“You have a bar in SoHo and the marketplace. I know you love them.”
Indigo stifled a smile. “Actually, I don’t want to run the bars anymore. At least, not hands on.”
He tilted his head. “Then what do you want to do?”
“Travel this world. Find the remaining black witches, if there are any.”
That had him eyeing her quietly. Then Dean sighed, pulling her even closer. “Why do I have the feeling this is going to be messy?”
“Who knows? Maybe it will be.”
“It will be tough.”
“You don’t think I’m tough enough for it?”
“I think you’re more than tough enough for it.” His hand settled on her back, rubbing up and down. “I’m coming with you.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know. I’m coming because I want to.”
A grin bloomed on her face, and he grinned back. That stopped her short, and he knew it because the grin turned into a smirk. Slyly, she wriggled against him until she felt it—that delicious hardness that she wanted. Her body ached for it, and her mind was more than ready.
Her rib? It could manage.
“So I’m tough?” she teased.
“You can be soft,” he murmured. He rolled them around gently until she was flat on her back. “Soft and great. Tell me when you want me to stop. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Okay,” she whispered back before receiving his next hungry kiss.
And no, she didn’t tell him to stop.