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cheek, leaving a streak of blue paint. Straightening, she put her brush down and placed both hands against her lower back, kneading at the sore muscles. She'd just spent a full hour painting temporary charms on the walls of the clan's meeting hall.
    Anyone who had spent a little time touring the farmhouses of Pennsylvania would recognize the work. Circles enclosed a geometric mix of birds for luck and happiness, wheat for abundance, stars for more good luck. Colors enhanced the symbols, blue for protection, white for the infant's purity, more abundance, love and luck with green heart shaped clovers and dashes of red to make the love and protection more fierce.
    Alone in the hall, she took another swipe across her face to erase the sweat trickling down her brow. "Who knew baby showers were so much work!"
    Picking up the brush, she moved a few more feet down the wall with a smile on her face. She didn't mind the work, needed it after the weeks she'd spent hiding in her house. Drawing a fresh circle, she felt a zap of energy flow through the brush and her smile deepened. It was probably just the break from what had become almost a 24/7 work schedule, but her magic was seriously juiced.
    Her brow crinkled as she realized the pregnant shifters also could be giving her a boost. Weird how it worked, but that had always been true. When the clan's numbers flourished, so did the magic of its witches. The documents Seth had carried away from the cabin noted the phenomenon, too. The papers also contained nasty spells for stealing that power, both from shifters and witches. Stealing her magic had been her captor's plan. From Quentin's notes, it appeared that he had killed many a latent and lone wolf. Except, if the notes were to be believed, he'd been doing so for more than one hundred and fifty years. Either Quentin was bug-shit crazy or the magic he stole prolonged both his life and youthfulness. The sadistic, gleeful face leering at her as he heated the branding iron in preparation of searing her flesh hadn't looked a day over thirty-five.
    Scowling, Esme grabbed a wet rag and erased the charm she'd been drawing. Hooking a plastic bag, she tossed the small cups that held the various colors of paint in it. She dumped the cheap brushes in next and then tied the bag off. Going back to her work table, she released the dark energy that had grown as she thought about Quentin. With the last of it expelled, she loaded fresh cups and brushes onto a tray, her mind directed at Leah and the baby so she wouldn't taint the magic working its way into the charms.
    Picking a fresh spot a few inches above the area she'd spoiled, Esme visualized the most powerful symbol she could think of. An eagle, gold with red-tipped feathers, took shape at the end of her brush. Carefully guarded within its deadly talons was a wolf cub, a crown of blue eight-point stars adorning its little head. Emanating out from the eagle and cub, she painted a sun wheel of darker gold and brown, red and black rings intersecting the spokes and forming the circle that contained the charm.
    Finished, she took a step back. A satisfied smile played across her face until she heard a thunk behind her and felt Dana all at once. His presence was a fifty foot wave slamming into her. Her knees gave out, her fingers extending in search of something to grab hold of. Paint splattered as the tray and its small cups hit the floor.
    She would have joined the mess if two strong arms hadn't wrapped around her waist to stop her fall. Dana's arms around her, Dana's hands curving along her flesh, one just below her breast, almost cupping it, the other wrapped around her hip.
    His mouth instantly found her neck. He nuzzled the curve of her shoulder and she felt him draw a deep breath in, scenting her. Buried between the generous halves of her ass, she felt the thick steel of his erection, the sensation transporting her back to the ritual.
    She choked on a whimper, tried desperately to quell her body's