Heat in the Air

by Serenity Snow

  “This is about allegiance and our kind pulling together to prevent the underworld from being pulled apart as well as keep the good witches from interfering in our business. They’ll make sure we hang for what we do.”

  “They’ll probably try, but that’s still not sufficient reason for me to join Dark Hollow.”

  “We’ll still be independent, and you’ll still be high priestess,” Juno told her coldly. “You’ll just have his protection as a resister.”

  “I can protect myself and this coven, Juno, so if that’s all—”

  “He’s already given us a task,” Juno jumped in. “We have to find the possessor of the western wind stone and bring her to him.”

  The properties of the stone would give them power if they knew how to activate it or could get it from the witch as a gift not by theft. The best time to get her to bestow it was during the upcoming Autumnal Equinox, it was a time of great power for witches and the stone was part of the witch and her power.

  “Where there is a wind stone, a nymph guardian isn’t far away,” Selene told her.

  A few hundred years ago the wind nymphs, or aurai as they were called, had been hit hard along with their consorts, the Knights. Dark witches as well as light ones had combined to destroy them, but she didn’t believe they were all dead.

  “There aren’t many left,” Juno told her. “But I never thought you a coward. Sitting behind this desk has turned you weak and lazy.”

  She lifted her brows, but didn’t remind Juno of just how many of the nasty and dangerous cases she took herself.

  “I don’t fear the aurai,” Selene murmured. The aurai were wind nymphs, immortal keepers of the balance of good and evil. “I simply don’t want a war with them.”

  The breed had proven deadly and determined when the demons and witches attempted to exterminate them hundreds of years ago.

  “We can handle any of the aurai who might be in this city,” Juno assured her.

  “Just because we can handle it doesn’t mean we should make this fight ours,” Selene told her icily.

  “Why would you hold us back from a great new life? Necron is offering us some exciting opportunities. Our race could finally become leaders in the demonic world.”

  “I’m not joining Team Hot Bed of Trouble because when you play with the devil, sooner or later he turns into the team bully,” Selene said firmly. “If he wants us to steal a stone, he’ll have to pay us like anyone else.”

  “You do realize he could come after us if you refuse?”

  “You do realize I’d rather die on my terms than his?” Selene demanded coldly. “Give him my decree. If he has issue with it, tell him to see me.” She wouldn’t back down from any asshole.

  “You’re making a mistake,” Juno told her icily. “I’ll let the others know so they can have the option to die with you or walk away.”

  “You do that,” she retorted. “They’re free to do as they please and so are you. Now, get out. I have real work to do.”

  Chapter Three

  The crowd at the Sandy Bar and Grill was thinner than usual, but a good number of patrons filled the tables on both levels. The old brick building with its worn dark wood floors was rather nice with reasonable prices. The gold and black blended well with the dark wood of the floor and shutters that were thrown open, revealing large windows that looked out the side and back patio.

  Tylor sat at a table alone sipping a beer as she contemplated the mess she would probably be dealing with for weeks to come. The misunderstanding of sexual misconduct had ensured Caroline would be seeing a counselor to cure her of her unnatural urges and Camille would be getting sideways glances from the staff for a while.

  Caroline’s parents wanted to keep things as quiet as possible, but they had insisted their daughter be removed from Camille’s class which Tylor had agreed with whole-heartedly.

  On top of that she had her other duties as storm aurai to deal with now that the dark ones were hunting wind-marked witches.

  “Tylor, do you mind if I join you?”

  Tugged from her reverie, Tylor looked up and into the brown eyes of Amollia Holt, one of the board members. She was the granddaughter of one of the wealthy families who’d started the school.

  “Hello, Amollia.” She gave her a smile as she stood. Amollia had taken her grandmother’s seat on the board though she was only twenty-seven. “By all means.” She gestured to the chair across the table from her. “Would you like a drink?”

  “Oh, no,” she said shaking her head. “I’m here with a guest, but I saw you and wanted to come over.”

  She didn’t speak as they sat, deciding Amollia would give her reasons when she was ready.

  “This is quite an interesting place,” Amollia commented. “Looks like a lesbian hang-out despite the male-female couples dotting a few of the tables.”

  “You’re here with a man, so perhaps appearances are deceiving,” Tylor replied giving her a ghost of a smile.

  “At any rate, the board is really quite taken with Miss Bay’s credentials. She’s very young, and she’s accomplished so much.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I sought her out for the school’s new program.”

  “One of your creation which my grandmother and mother are both delighted with. My grandmother was just saying about this situation with Caroline that sexuality doesn’t affect the ability to do a job,” Amollia said.

  “Your grandmother was always reasonable.”

  “Unlike my mother,” she said with a little laugh. “She said Miss Bay should be fired and never allowed to work with kids again considering her past.”

  “As you know, the incident you’re referring to, was thoroughly checked out. Camille was vindicated or I wouldn’t have hired her.” And the board wouldn’t have approved.

  “My grandmother pointed that out, and said she would recommend Miss Bay remains on probation until end of semester and if she does well, to lift it without prejudice.”

  “That will be great considering she’s not guilty of anything. And she could always sue the school for sexual discrimination if she’s gay.”

  “Exactly what my grandmother said and that’s part of the reason she wants to lift the probation so soon. Besides that, the likelihood of Miss Bay being involved with the student is so low as to be impossible.”

  Tylor studied her, seeing something in her eyes. The younger woman normally had a strong, very well-shielded aura, the invisible egg-shaped energetic body around each person and object, but right now her aura sparkled color, indicating excitement.

  Amollia’s grandmother was a coven leader, and she was looking for that thirteenth member of her circle.

  “She wasn’t being indiscreet,” Tylor said coolly.

  “If she had a lover that would certainly set everyone’s mind at ease,” Amollia told her, her gaze straying to another table.

  Tylor shrugged, her gaze following and landing on one pretty face in particular. The creamy pale skin had a kiss of gold that made her think of warm cream. The chocolate brown hair cascaded around her heart-shaped face, calling attention to the cute little smattering of freckles across her nose and that sweet little mouth was pulled into an enticing smile.

  “Yes, well, we don’t regulate the staff’s social lives, Amollia.”

  Camille looked up then, laughing. Her eyes were filled with a playful light that quickly turned to a sensual storm that made Tylor’s pulse race.

  Their eyes held and so did her breath. Tylor had wanted Camille in the most primal of ways, and she’d refrained from making any moves due to the possible threat to both of their careers. But she had been drawn to Camille with a power born of something alien from the moment she saw her picture on the computer screen.

  And Tylor knew tonight was the night she should make her move.

  But…

  “I didn’t suggest a regulation of her sex life, merely the possibility of curing the lack of one,” Amollia said mildly.

  Tylor snorted. “I’ll
let her know, though I’m sure a lover would be great as long as she isn’t gay,” Tylor finished her sentence and forced her gaze from Camille’s as lightning filled her veins.

  Amollia giggled gaily. “That would make things interesting. I’m sure my grandmother would enjoy it. She thinks diversity is the spice of life—one of them.”

  Tylor smirked. Amara Holt was bisexual from all appearances, though she kept that fact a closely guarded secret along with other things about her.

  “I’m sure.”

  “At any rate, she wants to meet Miss Bay,” Amollia told her with a mischievous grin. “So, she wants you to invite her to the country house for the weekend. She’ll expect you two by Thursday night. We begin our celebration with a sunrise event on Friday.”

  There was no school on Fridays as the majority of the students were boarders who went home on the weekends. Those that didn’t leave the campus or were day students could come to the campus for tutoring, research, school group meetings, or study. Meals were provided as well as supervision.

  “I’ll pass that along,” she replied coolly.

  “Make sure Miss Bay understands that it’s not a request,” Amollia said keeping her voice low.

  “What is Amara’s interest in her?” Tylor asked blandly, attempting to hide her own interest which had grown since she’d first hired Camille. Every moment she spent with her was like the Fourth of July, full of rockets and color.

  She hadn’t felt this way in almost a century. That was the last time she’d been with her consort, the one and only woman who’d left her soul singed from their scorching affair a lifetime ago.

  Amollia shrugged. “I mentioned that her aura was interesting. I can see and read them, as you know. She’s easier to read at times than others, but she’s one of us, a witch.”

  She’d known Camille was an aurai-marked the moment she’d met her. However, she’d contented herself with keeping an eye on Camille from afar, waiting for the witch to connect with the wind stones she wore. Once she did Camille would become demi-aurai, a witch of great power. And having such a powerful witch in her ranks would be a feather in Amara’s cap.

  “She might be a good fit for the coven and when better to find out than at the autumnal equinox?”

  It was one of a witch’s most holy days, a high sabbat, day of celebration, of harvest of what has been sown.

  “Perhaps she already has a coven,” Tylor told her coolly.

  Tylor wasn’t a member of the coven per se, but Amara was trying to get her to join and invited her to each coven celebration. She had a feeling the woman knew what she was and wanted her power and energy bound to the coven’s.

  But Tylor would never consider allowing any witch that kind of connection to her after the destruction they’d wrought. The Light Witch’s Congress had turned on the aurai and their consorts, the Knights, waging war against them for centuries.

  “Perhaps she values her job more,” Amollia said as she got to her feet. “Goodnight and enjoy your meal.”

  “Goodnight,” Tylor remarked coolly and stood. The other woman’s eyes danced with humor as she gave Tylor one last look before turning and going back the way she’d come.

  Tylor shook her head, jaw tight. She wouldn’t allow Amara to hurt Camille or to use her and her power as if she were a pet.

  “Are you ready to order?” The server appeared on the other side of the table wearing a smile.

  “Give me another few minutes,” she said barely containing the anger starting to boil inside her. She’d witnessed the underhanded games Amara played in business and witch politics as she quietly aided the local Light Congress in keeping the city safe from the dark ones and demons. “I need to visit the powder room.”

  “Okay. Signal when you’re ready,” she said and bounced away.

  Tylor blew out a frustrated breath as she headed to the bathroom. A dark storm was coming and Amara must be looking for more power to protect her family and her coven.

  Don’t overplay your hand, she warned herself as she stepped into the spotless bathroom with its vague hint of lavender.

  Finding it empty, Tylor went to the vanity counter with a long mirror before it. She drew in a few breaths and let them out slowly as she brushed the stray curl from her forehead ignoring the shimmer of a pale blue strand that showed so clearly in this light.

  Her eyes flashed silver with lightning for a moment, and she blinked and the telltale sign of her heritage was gone.

  She was a storm aurai of rank and power. Though she’d chosen to have a life rather than continuing to refrain from contact with humans, she still did her job as creator of storms. In addition, she kept a close eye on the powerful witches and when it appeared they were abusing their power, she spurred a rival of equal strength to act against them.

  The door swung open behind her as she combed her fingers through the silky curls that all storm nymphs bore. And she caught the scent of a familiar perfume and turned her head. Tylor’s eyes locked with a pair of blue ones that flashed with surprise.

  Chapter Four

  “Hello, Camille.” Tylor turned back to the mirror, and Camille got the feeling Tylor was only pretending not to watch her.

  “Hi, Tylor,” she said quietly, her heart raced, and she had to struggle to control her breathing. “I saw you out there, but I didn’t—I mean you didn’t seem to want to be disturbed.”

  She frowned and turned to lean against the vanity. “Really? At what point did you get the impression I wouldn’t welcome an interruption from you?”

  “I just meant—” Camille’s cheeks heated a little. “I’m gonna go—” She pointed to the stall and turned to go. Tylor’s hand closed around Camille’s upper arm, halting her progress.

  Her short sleeves left her skin bare and fire sparked in her blood from the soft touch. Her mouth went dry, and her breath caught.

  Tylor’s gaze slowly cruised down Camille, taking in the skirt that covered her thighs leaving her legs displayed in hosiery. Camille felt as if she was being slowly undressed and her nipples tightened in reaction.

  “Are those stockings or panty hose?” Tylor’s expression was tight, her eyes dark with interest.

  Camille’s clit swelled and her pussy moistened. The implication of the question didn’t escape her. She’d thought Tylor was pretty much oblivious to her as anything other than a fellow educator, but that look in her eyes now had anticipation building in her belly.

  “Stockings,” she said breathlessly.

  “Sexy choice for a night out with a friend,” Tylor murmured as she closed the distance between them. “Or maybe she’s a little more than a friend.”

  Camille laughed, backing toward the stalls. She knew how tricky this could get if she said the wrong thing. However, she wanted Tylor, and this might be her only chance to find out if Tylor was interested in her, too.

  “Jealous?” she taunted boldly, tilting her chin up as her back met a door.

  Tylor’s lips curved. “Should I be?” she asked as she glided her hand slowly down Camille’s arm. “You’re always eating me up with your eyes, so I don’t think that woman you’re with stands much of a chance.”

  Her tone was so silky and her eyes, her eyes were storm gray with a ray of heat. “I like your suits,” Camille replied flippantly and shrugged. “The bowtie was cute today.”

  Tylor laughed this time. “Were you imagining me tying you up with it before I fucked you on your desk?”

  She flushed hot, turned on by the explicit language and erotic image the words painted.

  Tylor withdrew her hand and braced it on the stall above and next to Camille’s head. Then she leaned toward her and rested her other hand on Camille’s thigh.

  “Do you want that, Camille? Do you want me to make you crazy with pleasure before I fuck you?”

  She swallowed convulsively, throat suddenly parched. “Y-yes.” The word came out a breathless whisper.

  “Are you willing to risk your job for it?” Tylor asked, leaning in cl
ose enough that their noses almost touched and her warm breath fanned Camille’s face.

  She shivered. This was the moment.

  Not even a spell could have given her so perfect a chance, and she was glad she hadn’t cast one as she’d often thought of doing since she’d met Tylor. Love spells were tricky and sometimes went terribly wrong.

  “Are you?” The words were a whispered challenge and her stomach fluttered in fear and hope.

  “If you’re interested, it’d be worth it,” Tylor murmured.

  She was looking for more, but a fling was only a place to begin.

  Camille shrugged. “I agree.”

  Tylor gave her a slow smile and glided her hand up beneath the skirt of Camille’s dress to toy with the lacy top of her stocking. “We’ll have to be discreet,” Tylor said softly and then claimed Camille’s lips.

  The kiss was undemanding, soft, lips brushing against each other, but she wanted more, needed it. So, Camille parted her lips and Tylor’s tongue darted inside. Their tongues came together and ignited heat that went off like a bomb blast inside Camille.

  Hunger a raging desire, Camille slid her hands up Tylor’s sides drawing a soft moan from her before she curved one around Tylor’s neck. Camille ground against her and Tylor’s hand moved, pushing open a stall door which played a creaky melody.

  Camille moved to one side and backed into the stall without breaking the kiss. Tylor turned them, putting her against the door as she slid the bolt into place securing a small slice of privacy for them.

  Camille rubbed against Tylor, and Tylor’s hands pushed beneath the hem of Camille’s dress to cup her ass. The sensual caress drew a moan from Camille, and Tylor broke the kiss to trail kisses along the side of Camille’s neck. Her tongue lashed before she sucked the succulent flesh.

  “Mmm.” Camille pushed a hand into the dark curls that fell so neatly around Tylor’s face and tugged at them as she arched into her. “Tylor,” Camille cried roughly as she tipped her head back, giving Tylor’s questing lips access to her throat.