A Wicked Night

by Kiersten Fay

  She’d been fresh from a shower, hair damp, and had just mounted the motorcycle he’d stolen to expedite their escape from someone who had rammed them off the road.

  She recalled thinking he’d snapped the picture because of how out of sorts she’d looked, kind of as a joke, but the image was actually quite…beautiful.

  “That’s my favorite one.”

  She jumped.

  At some point Knox had silently crept up behind her.

  “As far as pathetically obsessed compositions go,” he added.

  She started to turn, but Knox stayed her by the shoulders. “Walk forward and put your hands on that tree trunk.”

  She swallowed. This is my life now.

  She pocketed the phone and did as asked, feeling the roughness of the bark under her palms.

  Knox wasted no time. Slipping his fingers though her hair, he bared her neck and bit through her flesh.

  She gasped, unprepared for the shock of pleasure the raked her. His first pull already had her on the edge. His second tipped her over completely. Her nails dug into the bark, sending scraps of it to the ground.

  Before Knox pulled away, he reached into her pocket. Another release crashed like a breaking wave.

  Then he extracted his fangs along with the phone and whispered next to her ear, “Be mindful of Mace. Obsessions like his can addle the brain. Say cheese.”

  The flash went off. He’d made to get them both in the shot. She groused out a disgruntled sound and grabbed for the phone. Knox held it just out of reach, looking up at the screen, examining his work.

  “We make a nice pair, especially with that lovely flush in your cheeks.”

  “You son of a bitch. Give it to me.”

  He grinned devilishly. “Naughty witch. What kind of deviant do you take me for? I’m not so easy as that. Oh, you mean the phone. Be more specific next time. Everything that passes through those lovely lips of yours tends to sound dirty.”

  He lowered the phone and she snatched it, glowering.

  He let out a husky chuckle and then walked away. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that she allowed herself to look at the picture. Knox had a self-satisfied half grin, and damn her for thinking it sexy. She looked as though she’d orgasmed five times beforehand.

  She tapped the trash icon.

  Delete.

  ——

  Cora hadn’t left the cottage for several weeks. She was starting to go mad from boredom, pacing the house like a wild animal, even though her days had been eventful enough.

  To her endless relief, Knox had moved into the underground compound. Where, exactly, she didn’t know. Didn’t care.

  Their arrangement was precarious. Some days he’d take her blood two or three times throughout, others she’d not see him at all. When she did, she was always caught by surprise, which she guessed was by his design. He seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to finding her alone.

  She had no idea how to handle him. But at least she was meeting his demands with a kind of quiet dignity.

  He would always approach her from behind, like a wolf to prey. Yet, instead of pouncing, he’d announce himself, usually with some kind of gibe.

  “You still trying to learn that drivel?” he’d said one morning when he caught her reading her witchcraft books—after everything, she was more determined now than ever to learn how to wield magic properly. Unfortunately, her only reading material consisted of a pocket book—Quick Spells for the Witch on the Go—and a slightly larger book called A Witch’s Guide to Demons, Vampires, and Other Supernatural Entities that read more like an encyclopedia than a training manual. Surprisingly, Wraiths were not among the entries so she was rereading the section on spirits and ghouls.

  She replied to Knox with a hostile glance and then turned her attention back to the book, hoping he’d leave, but she knew he wouldn’t. Not till he got what he wanted.

  “Thought you’d be giving that up after you nearly lost your soul. Not bright, sweets, but if you’re determined to destroy yourself, who am I to stand in the way?”

  Then his roguish smile had dropped to a hungry mien. A signal things were about to get serious.

  “Stand up and clasp your hands in front of you.”

  He liked to make sure her hands were occupied, on the wall, gripping the banister, fastened together. After a time, she deduced why. Sadira, and even Saraphine, had required the use of their hands when directing powerful defensive magic. So, in a sense, he was tying her hands.

  He didn’t blindfold her like before. She suspected he’d only done it that first time to unnerve her. To make her blood rush, and increase his pleasure in taking it. Or maybe just to see how far he could push it.

  He moved up behind her. Her head cocked to the side to give him access. She hadn’t realized she’d done it of her own volition till Knox’s subsequent pause. She gleaned he was as surprised as she was by her actions.

  Conditioned response.

  In another encounter with Knox a few days later, he found her in the kitchen, plating a slice of pie. The sun was low in the sky, allowing golden light to wash over the room.

  “Seems we’re of a similar mind,” he said. “I have a right craving for something sweet and sinful. How ’bout you take a bite before I do.”

  Sometimes his comments were at Mace’s expense.

  “The dolt’s not very attentive, cher. You really should train him better.”

  On the contrary, Mace was being very attentive. As attentive as he could be under the circumstances. Even though he continued to work for Trent, helping in the investigation of their missing comrade, Brayden, every night he would make her feel downright cherished. She got the impression it was his way of making up for the situation with Knox, and, well, everything else.

  Cora rarely refuted Knox’s derision, mostly because she suspected he was just baiting her. He’d hinted at penalization if she didn’t follow his orders to the T. A thinly veiled, lustful glint in his eye made her wonder if that was exactly what he was hoping for.

  Luckily, his orders had been fairly benign thus far. Essentially, he’d make a show of dominance, bite her, take her blood into him, but, to her amazement, his treatment never neared the roughness he’d exhibited in the past, or as physically invasive.

  Perhaps Mace had spoken to him, made a threat or somehow managed to redefine the parameters of the agreement. Whatever the reason, with each new encounter, she’d be a little less afraid. A little more eager—to just get it over with. It was almost turning into a clockwork procedure.

  It was clear Mace wasn’t happy about the arrangement. Who could blame him? However, he was mollified by the fact that Knox kept his promise not to hurt her. That didn’t keep her from worrying over how long this delicate accord would last. Hence, the reinforced dedication to the study of witchcraft.

  Unfortunately, without a proficient teacher, her education was the equivalent of wandering the woods blindfolded, trying to find the sun. There might be small glimpses of light, but she felt bound to the darkness.

  As the new dynamic settled into routine, Cora began to detect things that had previously gone unnoticed. Such as Mace’s evasiveness when confronted with some of her questions. Particularly about Sadira, as well as his confounding loyalty to Knox.

  “Who is Sadira, really?” She’d asked one afternoon when they’d converged in the kitchen. “And what did Sadira do to the Morrigans?”

  “She cursed them a long time ago,” he replied. “I don’t know the details, but they hadn’t survived it.”

  She’d gathered that much. And she’d had so many more questions that it had escaped her notice he hadn’t answered the first of the two.

  “Sadira had said she wanted revenge. Against who? And why?”

  “Vampires, I guess. Who knows for sure? She was always a little crazy.”

  “How do you know her?”

  He hesitated. “Can’t really say I knew her. I had only met her once, briefly.”

  Cora sigh
ed, disappointed in the lack of information. “She said she was bound to Knox. How? When? For how long?”

  Mace averted his gaze, and she almost thought she caught a hint of shame roll off him. “You’ll have to ask Knox.” Then he kissed her and said, “Sorry love, I have to get back to work.”

  He turned and ducked through the secret panel that led to the underground compound.

  She headed upstairs and sat down on her bed cross-legged.

  Why was he being so secretive?

  But his evasiveness wasn’t what worried her most.

  After informing Mace one morning that she was headed out for a stroll around the cottage before breakfast, she had hastened back to their room for a sweater to shield against the unexpected chill in the air. The bathroom door had been cracked an inch. She hadn’t meant to peek in on him, but movement in the sink’s mirror had drawn her attention. Mace’s body was twisted awkwardly as he pressed the plunger of a syringe that was stuck into his hip.

  She recalled him bargaining her blood to Knox for a dose of something, but he’d refused to explain what it was for.

  Was he ill and didn’t wish to worry her?

  She sighed and leaned back against the headboard.

  Aside from all that, he kept his calls to Trent confidential, always exiting the room when his cell rang.

  She gathered her spell book and flipped to a page she’d earmarked—a spell she was curious about called Access to the Realm of Dreams—hoping it would distract her from her worries.

  It didn’t.

  Why would Mace not speak freely in front of her? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know what was going on with his investigation. They were searching for a vampire named Brayden. It was the whole reason she was in this mess. Somehow Winston hade gotten a hold of his blood and had been sneaking it to Cora as a test of its authenticity—and to make sure it wasn’t tainted or harmful to his clients—before he sold it on the black market.

  Of course, as Mason’s sire, Trent could have ordered him to keep her out of the loop and he would have to obey.

  She consoled herself by believing that was the case. VEA business was just that: VEA business. They wouldn’t want a human, or rather, a witch, privy to what was happening in the vampire community.

  But what there was more to it than that?

  As if sensing her insecurity, Knox was always there to exacerbate it.

  “Trent trusts you as much as I do,” he said, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “Less even, I expect. I’ve no doubt he’ll find a way to free us from you long before your wretched bond is reinforced.”

  She slammed shut the heavy book and glared up at him. “Aw. Another vampire doesn’t like me? Color me stunned. However will I recover?” Had he known she’d been thinking about Trent?

  “He’s not just any vampire. He’s a sire of hundreds. And you just so happen to have targeted his two favorites. There’s no reason for him to worry for me, but eventually he’ll grow tired of your influence over his golden-boy Mace.”

  “I don’t have an influence over anyone. Mace makes his own decisions.”

  “How would you respond, I wonder, if he decided to leave you?”

  Something violent twisted in her chest, so suddenly she wasn’t able to put her wall up in time to block it from Knox.

  He speared her with a knowing look. “What’s that I sense? Something witchy and, dare I say, possessive? Curious.”

  “All you sense is how much I care for Mace. I only want what’s best for him.”

  Knox narrowed his eyes. “You know, you’d make for a great politician. Lies come out of you like water from a pipeline.”

  Tired of all his subtle and not-so-subtle accusations, Cora let out a frustrated grumble. “This conversation is boring me. We both know why you’re here, and it’s not to debate my intentions for the hundredth time. Let’s just get this over with.” She stood, preparing for his commands.

  He studied her for a moment, then glanced at the book on the reading desk to his left. Pride and Prejudice, the book she’d been reading upon their first unfavorable meeting, the first time he’d fanged her. The same book he’d presented to her later, after having forcibly taking her neck.

  “You haven’t touched this. It was a gift, a peace offering.”

  The snort that rushed out of her couldn’t have spoken her opinion better than if she’d shouted “bullshit.”

  She crossed her arms. “Not interested, thanks.”

  She loved to read, and devoured all the classic books she could get her hands on. They were so hard to find these days. That one in particular appeared to be a first edition, or very close to one, and it pained her not to explore its pages, but she hadn’t moved it from that spot for a very specific reason. Because if she accepted it, in a way, it would be as if she were accepting him.

  She jerked her chin toward the well-used book. “Why don’t you take it? You could benefit from a little cultural influence. Maybe it will improve that personality of yours.”

  “Not my style, cher. I don’t do that romantic shit.”

  “What a shocker.”

  His lips twitched. “Besides, I never cared for the heroine in that story. She’s too self-important. But it was fun to watch her squirm when she realized the massive mistake she’d made by turning down Mr. Darcy. I merely figured you could learn from the moral of the story.”

  She choked on a laugh. “Sounds like you’re pretty familiar with the characters for someone who doesn’t do that romance shit.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m ignorant of the classics. I’ve spent many more years on this planet than you have. Remember that.”

  “Spare me your wisdom, gramps.”

  To her surprise, his amusement grew in the form of a wry smile. Jubilant lines creased the corners of his eyes. It made him look younger and deceitfully congenial. How many humans had fallen prey to that look? Lured in? Disarmed? Countless, no doubt. He was like a beautiful spider, always poised to strike.

  She swallowed, needing to smack that expression from his face.

  “Did you kill Ms. Windshaw?” She blurted.

  His grin slipped into a guarded frown. “I’d expect you to be smart enough to realize I’d never admit to such a thing, even if I did do it. But what if I had? What would you do? What could you do?”

  “I’d make you pay.” Her serious timbre brokered no dispute, even though she wasn’t exactly confident how she’d follow through. Still, she set her jaw.

  He smirked. “You’re welcome to try.”

  Then he turned and left her alone.

  Vein intact.

  ——

  Mace clasped his hands over his head and stretched his spine side to side. Then he shut down his computer and pushed away from the desk.

  He’d been digging into the pasts of several new suspects over the last few weeks. Trent was hopeful they were making progress figuring out who had abducted Bray, but Mace had his doubts. Not one suspect stood out from the rest. He couldn’t even decipher how they’d wound up on Trent’s radar.

  “Our girl grows bolder by the day,” Knox’s voice shot from behind.

  Mace turned to see him standing in the doorway. Luckily Mace had taken care to claim a new office where the lock on the door could only be engaged from the inside.

  “My girl,” he corrected harshly. “And I told you she’s strong.”

  “That you did, but I think her sudden courage is the result of something other than a newfound self-confidence.”

  Mace stifled a cringe and adopted a bland tone. “What makes you think that?”

  “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot,” Knox said. Through grinded teeth he added, “She’s a Conwell, just like Sadira. We both know what that means.”

  Mace replied, “We can’t be sure that she’s just like Sadira.”

  “We can’t be sure she’s not till it’s too late.” Knox stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jeans and leaned against the doorframe. “She’s changing. I k
now you’ve seen it. Before, when she would meet my gaze, pure human fear stared back at me. It was like she was forcing herself not to look away with everything in her. Now? I don’t know. A fire’s kindling in her, and not in a good way.”

  Mace shrugged. Cora’s resilience gave him pride and made her even more attractive to him. But at the same time, fragments of a theory formed every time he caught something untoward flourish behind her beautiful eyes. Eyes that were guileless but for that growing darkness.

  Knox practically sniffed out his inner turmoil. “It doesn’t worry you? What she is? How quickly she’s adjusting? And now you want to allow her to master witchcraft? She bonded us when she was but a meek human girl. What do you think a savvy witch could accomplish? Especially one with her lineage.”

  “You’re anticipating a problem where there is none. Just keep to the plan, make sure you don’t reinforce the bond with your blood, and soon both she and I can be rid of you.”

  “I don’t see this playing out the way you envision. There’s nothing but trouble in our future and it goes by the name Coraline Conwell.”

  Chapter 10

  Cora stretched out in the grass near the boundary line that marked the protective spell surrounding the cottage. Outside that unmistakable demarcation, the forest appeared to be hundreds of years older than within, with fat knotted trees and acres of ivy.

  Meeka, in her kitten form, pounced for a butterfly. The winged creature escaped into the sky, and green eyes beseeched Cora as if she should jump up and assist in the chase.

  “Sorry, girl, I don’t have a hankering for bug guts at the moment.” Cora glanced back at the book in her lap. This evening, she’d opted for a fictional escape instead of studying witchcraft. The bookshelf in the living room had a varied selection, and she’d selected something by an author she’d never heard of before. It was all about dragons that were able to take human form. And though silly—Cora generally preferred something a little more realistic—she was rather enjoying it, and found herself thinking, well, vampires exist, so do witches, why not dragons?

  When the butterfly disappeared into the sky, the cat let out an impatient meow, but was easily distracted by a dragonfly that zoomed past, and off she went.