Chapter Two

Sanctuary

Hannah paused to sniff the delicious aroma of freshly baked bread wafting from the kitchen to the front half of the bakery. She smiled, pleased with the yeasty aroma.

She shifted the lightweight ladder she carried and worked her way around the first counter where the cash register stood to her right, and propped the ladder against the wall to her left. The bakery was compact and filled with rows of white shelves. Freshly baked goods burdened the racks, goodies that came straight from the spacious kitchen behind her.

Outside, the wind screeched. It whistled around corners and whipped tree limbs into a wild frenzy. The display window suddenly rattled. She whirled around, suppressing a gasp. The single lamp she'd switched on earlier didn't give off much light. She preferred the dimmer lighting. That way if someone was out and about and up to no good, maybe they'd think no one was here.

A trickle of unease slithered down her spine. Being alone in the bakery late at night always made her nervous. She marched over to the door and twisted the doorknob, still locked after inspecting it for at least the fifth time. She shivered, strode back across the room and climbed the ten-foot rickety ladder.

This wasn't her regular shift, but Kirrah wanted the night off to practice new spells.

Kirrah owed her big time.

She shook her head and grinned at the latest hare-brained scheme her best friend planned. Kirrah, it seemed, was determined to teach a broom to fly. Knowing Kirrah, she'd probably succeed ... eventually.

Leaning as far to the right as possible, Hannah still couldn't reach the container of spice she needed. Toadstools and Horny Toads! It was already well past two. If she didn't set her second batch of dough to rise soon, she wouldn't get out of the bakery before sunrise.

How in the world had Kirrah put the cinnamon there? Magic?

She chortled. Nevertheless, it was typical Kirrah. Only her friend would think it made perfect sense to place something they frequently needed out of reach. With her illogical thinking, if it was in plain sight, then it had to be the logical place for it. Ha!

Her petite friend was getting too good at mumbling words and causing strange things to happen. Shaken, they'd both finally accepted the fact Kirrah was a witch. It was downright unnerving the way Kirrah's powers had grown since their move to Sanctuary. Kirrah's powers were stronger, yes, but nearly everything she did was wild. As teenagers, they haunted the libraries, reading everything they could get their hands on about witches. They hadn't missed a single episode of Sabrina, the Teenage Witch, not even the reruns.

They'd come to the disheartening conclusion Kirrah simply hadn't mastered the technique of harnessing her magic. But she refused to give up. She practiced. And practiced.

Her friend seemed to always be mumbling some new chant, then she'd look at Hannah with a rueful grin and give a half-hearted shrug as a book floated in the air straight into a wall or a dish crashed to the floor and shattered. Again. This whole business of unskilled magic and her friend being a witch was definitely peculiar.

Hannah stretched a little further and felt along the top shelf. The ladder rocked unsteadily and tilted to the left. She yelped and grabbed the edge of the shelving. Too late! The ladder toppled over. Crash! Hannah screamed and gripped the edge of the shelf with her fingertips.

The shelf quivered and groaned, then pulled free from the wall on one end. Jars of homemade jellies, jams, and extra containers of spices flew off the end of the shelf and shattered on the floor below her. Surplus sacks of flour smacked the cement floor, bursting open and spraying mushroom-shaped clouds into the air.

Bags of sugar landed with a dull thud and split apart, spewing crystal granules in sunburst patterns. It reminded Hannah just how high she dangled. If she fell, she could break a bone.

"Help! Somebody help me!"

But who was there to help?

She was at least twelve feet in the air.

Her legs churned the air like the pistons of an over-worked locomotive trying unsuccessfully to gather enough steam to race up a hill. She looked down to her left and right, but there was nothing close enough she could drop onto. She winced as her arms started to cramp, and to make matters more difficult, she needed to pee--badly.

Why was it, when one was in a predicament, one suddenly had bodily functions attacking as if declaring war? She couldn't even cross her legs as she dangled there in midair.

To make things more exciting, a fly suddenly zipped around and around her face. It buzzed like a pissed-off bumblebee mad at the world. Oh, no! It lit on the tip of her nose. Pushing out her lower lip, Hannah huffed and puffed, trying to dislodge it.

She twitched her nose.

She prayed.

Nothing worked.

The damned thing must have decided her nose felt like home sweet home. Ack! She wouldn't be surprised if the pesky thing ran up a flag to stake its territory.

Hannah gave cursing a try, but she'd never been very good at swearing. Besides, what good would it do? The fly was just a dumb bug, doing what came naturally.

Inwardly, she cringed. Here she was on the verge of slipping and falling, so why she was thinking stupid, mundane thoughts when she was about to break a leg or worse--both legs? Thinking rationally was impossible for her at this precise moment. The muscles in her shoulders quivered. Cramps laid siege to the upper portion of her arms, which trembled violently. Sweat dampened her fingers. Hell, even her eyeballs sweated!

Her grip on the shelf slipped a little more. She knew, as sure as there were angels playing harps in Heaven, that when her fingers started to sweat it was all over but the crashing. And damn, if the distance to the floor didn't look farther and farther away.

Oh no! The last of her strength gave. Shrieking, she plunged downward.

"There now, I've got you."

Strong, masculine arms closed around her, cradling her securely. The man gave a slight grunt and staggered beneath the sudden onslaught of her weight, but he held her tight, saving her from injury.

"Dunghill!" She locked her arms around his neck, buried her face against his wide shoulders and trembled.

Warm breath brushed against her throat. "Dunghill?"

The voice sounded mildly curious.

"As opposed to shit, I'm not very good at swearing."

Soft laughter filled her ears. "Yes, I can hear that."

She pushed her nose against his hair and inhaled. "I'm tapering my damn language, okay?"

"Sure. Are you sniffing my hair?"

"Er--umm, course not."

"I see." His tone plainly said he didn't see at all.

His hand glided down her back as though he was gentling her to his touch. She gripped his neck tighter and shuddered at the near injury he'd saved her from.

"It's all right, mau-ley," he soothed.

"Mau-ley?" She whispered the word against his throat.

"My love."

Her heart pounded. Her stomach tightened like it had a lump of soft mush hardening in the center. My love?

He might have saved her from a terrible injury, but she couldn't keep from thinking the town had battened down for the storm's onslaught hours ago. The bakery was closed for the night.

How had he gotten in?

Oh, but those masculine arms felt wonderful. Nice, solid, strong and he smelled divine, like almonds and cinnamon and hot frothy chocolate.

Surely he wouldn't have saved her if he meant her harm?

However he'd managed to get inside the bakery, she was grateful he'd arrived in time to keep her from being injured. She buried her nose against the hard wall of his chest and inhaled deeply, sighing with the pure pleasure of his tantalizing scent.

"Hey, you're okay. Right? You didn't hurt yourself?"

For the first time she realized he had an accent, one so thick he sounded like Bela Lugosi. She would know--she'd watched enough old vampire movies with Kirrah to recognize the Old World accent.

"I'm fine. I think." She lifted her head from his shoulder. "Thank you."

Hannah gulped when she looked into the rugged face so close to hers. Heat radiated from his body into hers. Dark hair tumbled about his shoulders, reminding her of a sable's rich coat, soft and black like the most prized fur of one of those small mammals. It fell carelessly around his face and down his back. Her hands itched to touch it. The man was sensually, sinfully, beautiful. Even with a silk eye patch over his eye, he was still gorgeous.

Ah, how tragic. He'd probably lost the eye in some terrible accident. Cripey! She had his full attention, that single eye focused on her diamond hard. Surrounded by a wedge of thick, black lashes, it was the most peculiar shade of lavender. Dark purple striations sparked with heat in the warm lilac depths.

She'd never seen anyone's eyes shimmer, except for Kirrah's, and she could easily explain that away because Kirrah was a witch.

Hannah swallowed hard, but she couldn't quite conceal the excitement in her voice, "You're a waken!"

"You're an illumrof," he shot back. "And what do you know about wakens?" The expression on his face turned dark and dangerous. "How do you know about wakens?"

The very softness of his questions gave her plenty of warning. This man was no one to prank around with. He had lethal down to perfection, Alpha male right down to his toes.

"I don't know about wakens. Not really. I mean, I haven't ever met a waken--er--before now--well, except for the man next door who claims to be a..." her voice trailed off as it suddenly hit her. She gasped. "Actually, I haven't seen any males in Sanctuary since I moved here, except for--the--er--Prince Talon, who claims he's a waken."

She tilted her head sending her hair cascading back over her shoulders. "What's an illumrof?"

The heat shimmering in his eye went from inviting and sultry to cold and suspicious in a heartbeat. Truth to tell, it was damned daunting. Another truth hit her like a runaway freight train. Charming though this man might be he was like a big cat on a leash. If and when he broke that bridle, she better run like hell or else she would be in serious trouble.

The rise and fall of his chest brushed her breasts every time he drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Hannah blinked. "Where do all you wakens live?"

That single eye narrowed with lethal intent.

Oh, dear, what had she said wrong?