Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight by L.J. Smith Page A

him, a coldness that felt no mercy for anyone and only wanted to hurt and kill. It was filling him, sweeping everything else away. Just being in contact with it started her heart pounding and shortened her breath. Its raw violence was terrifying.
    You left me! he snarled at her, three syllables with a world of bitterness behind them.
    I had to. And I’ll never tell you why. Jez could feel her own eyes stinging; she supposed he could sense how it hurt her to say that. But it was the only thing that would work. The pull between them was weakening, being smashed away by his anger.
    You’re a traitor, he said. And the image behind it was that of everyone who’d ever betrayed a friend or a lover or a cause forthe most selfish of reasons. Every betrayer from the history of the human world or the Night World. That was what Morgead thought of her.
    I don’t care what you think, she said.
    You never cared, he shot back. I know that now. I don’t know why I ever thought differently.
    The force that had been trying to drag them together had thinned to a silver thread of connection. And that was good—it was necessary, Jez told herself. She made an effort and felt herself slide away from Morgead’s mind, and then further, and then further.
    You’d better not forget it again, she said. It was easier to be nasty when she couldn’t feel his reactions. It might be bad for your health.
    Don’t worry, he told her briefly. I can take care of myself. And you’d better believe I’ll never forget.
    The thread was so fine and taut that Jez could hardly sense it now. She felt an odd lurch inside her, a pleading, but she knew what needed to be done.
    I do what I want to, for my own reasons, she said. And nobody questions me. I’m leader, remember?
    Snap!
    It was a physical sensation, the feeling of breaking away, as Morgead was carried off on a wave of his own black anger. He was retreating from her so fast that it made her dizzy….
    And then her eyes were open and she was in her own body.
    Jez blinked, trying to focus on the room. She was looking up at the ceiling, and everything was too bright and too large and too fuzzy. Morgead’s arms were around her and her throat was arched back, still exposed. Every nerve was quivering.
    Then suddenly the arms around her let go and she fell. She landed on her back, still blinking, trying to gather herself and figure out which muscles moved what. Her throat stung, and she could feel dampness there. She was giddy.
    “What’s wrong with you? Get up and get out,” Morgead snarled. Jez focused on him. He looked very tall from her upside-down vantage point. His green eyes were as cold as chips of gemstone.
    Then she realized what was wrong.
    “You took too much blood, you jerk.” She tried to put her usual acidity into the words, to cover up her weakness. “It was just supposed to be a ritual thing, but you lost control. I should’ve known you would.”
    Something flickered in Morgead’s eyes, but then his mouth hardened. “Tough,” he said shortly. “You shouldn’t have given me the chance.”
    “I won’t make the same mistake again!” She struggled to a sitting position, trying not to show the effort it cost her. The problem—again—was that she wasn’t a vampire. She couldn’t recover as quickly from loss of blood…but Morgead didn’t now that.
    Not that he’d care, anyway.
    Part of her winced at that, tried to argue, but Jez brushed it aside. She needed all her strength and every wall she could build if she was going to get past what had happened.
    It shouldn’t have happened, whatever it had been. It had been some horrible mistake, and she was lucky to have gotten away with her life. And from now on, the only thing to do was try to forget it.
    “I probably should tell you why I’m here,” she said, and got to her feet without a discernable wobble. “I forgot to mention it before.”
    “Why you came back? I don’t even want to know.” He only wanted her to leave; she