Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

“Until then, you can sleep at the foot of my bed if you’d like.”

Clay had never seen an animal glare at him, but that was exactly what the black lab was doing. He laughed and reached out to ruffle the top of the lab’s head. “Come on, you can’t stay like this.”

It took several minutes for Baer to change and when he did, he sprawled on the ground, his hair sweaty from the exertion. “Whew, that takes a lot out of me.”

“It’ll get easier, the more you practice and get used to it,” Jo said. “Soon, you’ll effortlessly flow from one shape to another.”

Clay settled on the ground next to Baer, somewhat tired himself.

His new friend smiled over at him. Baer was a strange guy, but there was a feeling of goodness that he couldn’t shake. Has to be a good guy if he goes through all this craziness and still has a smile on his face.

“While I appreciate the interesting gift,” Baer started in a bit of a drawl, “what did you mean about returning our power to us? I’ve never had this before. And what does this have to do with the guys who’ve been chasing me and Ruby?”

“Not in this lifetime,” Jo said. “But you’ve lived many lifetimes. You and Clay are two of the six souls we originally gifted power. When you die, my sisters and I hold on to the powers until you return and are ready again to have them.”

“This is a long story, isn’t it?” Baer touched the flower Clay had brought to life.

“And a weird one.” Clay sighed, sure he’d lost his mind. “But it’s one that’s starting to ring true.”

Clay settled against a tree, enjoying its life pulsating on his back, as Jo launched into the story she’d told him about the dimensional rift, goddesses, pestilents, and the Weavers’ Circle.

It sounded crazy as hell to him, but now that he’d seen the magic happen, he was starting to believe.Chapter 6Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, waking Clay early. It was either that or the hammering going on in another room of the house, he wasn’t sure which. He rolled over and buried his head under the pillow, taking in the faint lavender scent of the detergent. It wasn’t his favorite aroma normally, but it was pleasant on the soft linens and in the folds of the navy comforter. Fresh.

He took a deep breath and removed the pillow, blinking into the brightness. The hammering continued, and he pushed himself out of the bed to sit on the edge. Rubbing a hand over the unwounded part of his chest, he marveled at the feeling of magic inside him.

For years, he’d felt like something was missing, and to learn it was this the whole time both amazed and worried him. Magic. It was all so new. It felt like it was alive inside him, almost like another presence—yet a part of him at the same time.

Tugging up his sweat pants as he stood, he slipped on his shoes. With all the remodeling going on, the floor was inevitably covered in things that aggravated the still-healing cuts from his run across the parking lot at the motel. He’d walked barefoot through the house yesterday and regretted it. Glancing at the claw marks on his chest, he was relieved to see they were healing, but the scars would always be there.

Maybe he’d get some kind of tattoo to make them look more…intentional. How else would he explain them to anyone catching a glimpse of his chest? Several tattoos already decorated his body, so he could make the marks blend.

At least the wounds hadn’t become infected.

Clay shuffled into the kitchen, noting that all the cabinets were open and empty. One lay in tatters on the floor.

Dane stood on a ladder in the middle of the kitchen, replacing a lightbulb, his hammer on the counter beside him. His long, lean body was stretched out, his T-shirt riding up and showing a strip of tanned skin along his abs.

Clay’s mouth watered as he stepped closer. He wanted to run his hands up under that shirt more than he wanted to breathe. Just to feel the warm skin and trace that hint of happy trail that disappeared into Dane’s jeans had to be heaven.

He glanced up to find Dane’s light-green eyes on him. They were the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen and still startling—they were so light compared to his tan skin. Dane hadn’t shaved that morning, and brown stubble framed his square jaw. Clay couldn’t decide whether he preferred him clean-shaven or like this. This felt more intimate, though.

“Can I help you with something?” Dane asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes,” Clay said before his mind did some kind of skip as Dane reached up again to screw the lightbulb in tighter and his shirt rode back up. That flat stomach with its hint of ab muscles was so damn intriguing.