by Deanna Chase
“What did you just call me?” I pulled away from Vaughn’s grasp, power pooling in my palms.
He finally gave me a long look and recognition dawned as his gaze landed on my hands. “Are you helping him?” He spun and glared at Vaughn. “What are you doing with a witch?”
“Mitch, get the fuck out of here before I beat the shit out of you.” Vaughn took a menacing step forward. “And don’t ever talk to her like that again. Show some goddamned respect for once in your life.”
I tamped my magic down and took a step back. “Clearly you two have something to work out. I think I’ll be on my way.”
Vaughn clasped his hand over my wrist. “No. We don’t. And if he has any sense at all, he’ll get back in his rust bucket and leave.”
I was startled at his possessive grip and panic flashed through me. But not because of the obvious dominance. Oh no. Because I liked it. When had anyone of the opposite sex had the balls to take charge in my life? Never. They were too busy doing whatever I said in the hope they’d get laid later.
Mitch scowled. “We don’t have time for this. Things are getting… out of control.”
“Not my problem,” Vaughn said through clenched teeth. A muscle in his neck pulsed.
Mitch gave me one last look of disdain and then pursed his lips in a flat line before saying, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then he climbed back into his circa-1990s Toyota and sped off down the street again.
We stood on the sidewalk staring at each other for a moment. I wasn’t sure what to say.
“Well. That was… uncalled for.” Vaughn held his hand out. “Are you still up for some food? And maybe I can explain what that was about?”
As attracted as I was to him, I wasn’t going to sign up for a relationship that came with a generous helping of the criminally insane. No thank you. I was about to shake my head no when he let out a frustrated sigh. “He’s my stepbrother, otherwise I would’ve cut ties with him years ago. It’s hard to ditch family.”
Now that was something I could understand. Against my better judgment, I took his still-outstretched hand. “Dinner sounds great.”
Chapter 9
Vaughn
I led Matisse into the neighborhood corner bistro. Vale, the maître d’ who happened to be a good friend of mine, was on the phone and waved us into the dining room. I chose a secluded table in the back.
A waitress appeared, handed us menus, and took our drink orders. Abita Turbodog for me and a sweet tea for Matisse.
She sat back in her chair. “So…”
I scanned the menu, avoiding her gaze. There was no need. I always ordered the same thing, but I needed a moment to collect my thoughts. How much should I tell her? Not that I was a bounty hunter. Not yet. I had a cover to maintain. But I could explain about Mitch.
“Good evening.” The tall platinum-blond waitress pulled out a pen and a faux-leather tablet. “Would you like to hear the specials?”
Matisse flashed the waitress a sweet smile that made me want to reach out and caress her lips. “Sure.”
Dude, get a grip.
The waitress rattled off four or five things, none of which I retained. I was too busy watching my date. Date. That’s the second time I’d used that term in the last ten minutes. What would she say to that?
“And for you, sir?” the waitress prompted.
Right. Matisse had just ordered one of the specials. “Shrimp and grits, please.”
“Excellent choice.” The waitress wandered off once again.
Matisse cleared her throat. “You were going to fill me in on what happened back there?”
Better to just start at the beginning. “I already told you Mitch is my stepbrother. He’s also a witch.”
“It’s hard to believe you two are related.” She seemed more interested in my family history than the fact that he was a witch. Though, she’d probably already sensed his magic anyway.
“We don’t really get along all that well.”
Her eyes lit up as she laughed. She seemed so fresh and relaxed. It was even more alluring than the natural attraction that was running rampant between us. “That seemed fairly obvious.”
I grinned sheepishly. “I guess so. Anyway, I do contract work for the, ah, company he works for, and I gather he’s under a lot of pressure from his bosses.” I shrugged. “Apparently I’m not moving fast enough for them. But since I only get paid when I deliver, it’s not like they can fire me or anything.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And yet you’re here with me instead of working on the project?”
“I’ve been working on it all day.” I ignored the nagging doubt in my mind that I should be doing something more to find the rogue witch. But since I didn’t have anything else to go on at present, it wasn’t like I’d just dropped the job. Besides, I was right where I wanted to be. “There isn’t much more I can do today anyway.”
“Gotcha.”
Our waitress brought our drinks and set them down hard enough that Matisse’s tea sloshed onto the table. The waitress’s friendly demeanor had vanished, replaced by a scowl. She didn’t even apologize for spilling a third of the liquid.
We watched her stalk away. Once she disappeared into the kitchen, Matisse turned her attention to me. “Looks like someone’s having a bad day.”
“I guess so.” I handed her an extra napkin as she mopped up the tea.
When she was done, I was completely captivated as she wrapped her lips around the straw. She had to have felt the heat rippling from me because she lifted her gaze to mine and sent me her seductive smile. The same one that had lured me in so well the night before.
I placed my elbows on the table and leaned in. “Matisse?”
Her smile widened as she sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew exactly what she was doing. “Yes?”
“Come here,” I commanded.
She didn’t move. Her eyes never wavered from mine. And for a minute, I was certain she wasn’t going to give me what I wanted. But then she placed her hands flat on the table, leaned in, and brought her lips inches from mine. “What exactly is it you want, Mr. Paxton?”
“I think you know the answer to that.” I inched closer, stopping just shy of pressing my lips to hers, tormenting both of us. I wanted her lips on me. Wanted to throw her down on the table and rip her clothes off.
Her breath caught. Was the witch reading my mind? Goddamn, I hoped so. The tip of her tongue glided over her lower lip as she stared at my mouth. I felt my lips curl into a self-satisfied smile.
But she didn’t seem to notice. Or if she did, she didn’t give a damn, because she inched forward and pressed her lips to mine, her hot tongue slipping into my mouth, tasting and exploring at her will.
I let my eyes close and breathed in her light honeysuckle scent. It was so subtle and not at all exotic, but it was intoxicating and made me want to taste every inch of her.
Bam!
The table shook as dishes crashed onto the surface. Matisse and I jerked apart to find our waitress with wild, red-tinged eyes glaring at us. Our plates had been slammed onto the edge of the table with most of the food splattered on the floor.
Matisse jumped up. “What—”
The waitress growled, and her form morphed into a gnarled, wrinkled version of herself as her jaw elongated and her nails grew to pointed daggers on her fingertips.
“Jesus!” I sprang out of my chair, but the demon reached out, slicing through Matisse’s sweater. Streaks of blood seeped through the white cotton.
“Son of a… Fuck!” I reached for her, but before I could intervene, Matisse let out a roar of pain. Magic sprang from her raised hands, and a flash of light encircled the demon, momentarily trapping her.
“You’re mine, dirty witch.” The demon spat green-tinged mucus at Matisse’s feet. She jumped back just in time before the mucus exploded into a puff of smoke.
Holy shit. Exploding mucus. I glanced around. Where was everyone else in the restaurant? The place
was eerily empty except for the three of us. Without any idea of how to battle the magical creature, I grabbed a chair and swung.
My arms reverberated with the massive impact. The demon fell to her knees, but as she went down, red lightning shot from her mouth and caught Matisse’s leg. Matisse went rigid and convulsed in place as the demon cackled with victory.
Protective rage filled every inch of my being. My hands tightened around the solid wood chair, and with a force I hadn’t known I’d possessed, I swung. The makeshift weapon splintered against the side of the demon’s head. The demon sat there, stunned, as the chair broke apart around her.
“Dammit!” With one hand I grabbed a broken table leg and fisted a fallen steak knife with the other.
Matisse had slid to the floor and was clutching her leg as her body trembled with shock. The utter pain on her face cut me to the core. But there was no time to waste, because the demon had her sights on me now and was on her feet, coming straight for me.
“Come on!” I taunted, wielding the knife and crude wooden stake as if I’d been training for this my entire life. The defensive stance seemed so completely natural it was unexplainable. I’d taken a few boxing lessons, but nothing that would explain why I seemed to be trained in combat.
The demon reached both arms out, grabbing for my head, but I swung my left arm, cutting the blow off with the wooden stake and followed immediately with a strike of the knife. The blade hit home in the demon’s shoulder. She recoiled, hissing what appeared to be steam. But I didn’t stop. The demon had gone after Matisse. She had to be destroyed.
I surged forward on the offensive and just when I was about to drive the stake in the demon’s chest, she turned, spraying me with that steam.
“Fuck!” It burned like hell, almost as if I’d been pepper-sprayed. Tears flooded my eyes, and I stumbled back, blinded. “Son of a bitch,” I cried, my arms flailing, trying to connect with any part of the demon. But there was nothing but air.
“You opened the gates,” the demon said in a sinister tone.
What the hell did that mean?
“And you killed my mate, dirty witch.” Another snarl escaped the demon. “It’s time to pay. Your life for his.”
Matisse’s strong voice filled the room. “No! By my word to the Goddess, I command you back to Hell!”
Thunder rumbled, shaking the furniture as the dishes rattled on the tables. Then I heard a boom, followed by what sounded like an electric sizzle.
I wiped at my burning eyes and tried to peer through the blur. A fuzzy outline appeared before me.
“Vaughn?” Matisse’s voice was soft, full of concern.
“I’m fine,” I said, scooting back, not wanting to be coddled. “I need water.”
There was a slight rustling and the clink of glass against what must be a pitcher of some sort. Then her delicate hand wrapped around my wrist as she pressed a cold glass into my palm. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Still mostly blind, I fished the ice out of the glass. Then I forced my eyes open and dumped the water over my irritated eyes. “Holy fucking shit!” That burned. Blinking rapidly, I poured more water over my face, and after what seemed like hours, though it was likely only a few minutes, the restaurant came back into view.
“Welcome back,” Matisse said as I finally focused on her. She’d ripped apart one of the linen tablecloths and bandaged her leg. Funny how I hadn’t heard that while I’d been cleansing my eyes. “You okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
We were both sitting on the painted concrete floor as the staff slowly started to emerge from the back.
“Where’s the new waitress?” one of them asked.
Neither of us answered. But only Matisse knew for sure where the demon had gone.
The front door blasted open, and two men wearing official-looking black jackets and odd badges burst through. They did a sweep of the restaurant. When they came up empty, they headed straight for us.
I climbed to my feet and held a hand out to Matisse. There were many questions for her to answer, but I’d be damned if I made her do it alone. She cast me a grateful look and struggled to get to her feet due to her injured leg. I wrapped my arm around her, giving her the support she needed to stand upright.
The taller official glanced over his shoulder at the restaurant workers, who were staring at us. Turning back to us, he jerked his head toward the door. “I think we should talk outside.”
“Fine.” I helped Matisse navigate the disaster created by the struggle. With each wince and hiss that escaped her sweet lips, a piece of me hardened. Had she really opened the gates of Hell? Was she the witch I’d been looking for? I didn’t want to believe it. But the more I tried to explain the demon’s words away, the more convinced I was that she was the rogue witch. Why else would a demon come after her in broad daylight?
Once outside, the official took a rundown of exactly what had happened in the restaurant, confirmed Matisse was a witch and that I wasn’t, and then they thanked us and left.
“Who the hell was that?” I asked her. They weren’t with the NOLA PD. Or any other government law enforcement.
She stared at her feet.
“Matisse?” I kept my tone low and as even as possible. We’d had enough conflict for one day.
“Can we go back to your apartment?” she asked, still avoiding my gaze.
“Sure.”
At first the walk was slow and tedious, but with each step, Matisse seemed to be getting stronger. By the time we reached my apartment, she was barely even limping.
“Did you cast a spell?” I eyed her as I unlocked the door. “Or do you have super healing capabilities?”
That got a smile out of her. “It’s a spell. Though it did take a lot out of me. I might be walking better, but I still feel like shit.”
I would’ve never guessed. Besides looking rumpled, she was as gorgeous as ever. But now wasn’t the time to dwell on that. I held the door open for her. She stood in my entry hall, fidgeting. Fidgeting? She’d just beaten down a demon and here she was, consumed by nerves. Was it the fact we were alone in my apartment once more or the fact that she’d just banished a demon? I was hoping for the former.
Chapter 10
Matisse
How did a girl explain to a guy she was dangerously attracted to that she was a sex witch, related to the high angel, and was using him for sex in order to close the portal to Hell? Yeah. No. Maybe the demon-portal thing was enough.
I sat on Vaughn’s leather couch and waited for him to return. He’d disappeared into the kitchen after saying something about bottled water. But when he took more than a few minutes to return, I got up and hovered near the door.
“I’ve got it taken care of.” Vaughn had his back turned to me as he talked into his iPhone. “Yes. She’s here… No. Don’t come over. Fuck, dude. I told you I’m handling it.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, shook his head, and hit End before tossing it on the counter with enough force that it bounced a couple of times.
“Your brother?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
He flinched and turned in my direction, clearly startled.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’m just a little thirsty.” I nodded toward the bottled water sitting on the counter.
“Right.” He grabbed both bottles and shuffled me out of the room.
We sat on his couch in silence as he studied me with a mix of curiosity and confusion. I took one of the waters and watched him struggle with himself while I drank a quarter of it.
Finally he squared his shoulders, looked me straight in the eye, and asked, “Are you a witch who deals with demons?”
I sputtered mid-sip. “What?”
“The demon.” He leaned in, scrutinizing me. “She said you opened the portal and destroyed her mate. Is this just another normal day for you?”
The way he asked the question ‘Is this just another normal day for you’ sounded very much like an accusation. Irritated, I sat back. “
No. I don’t play around with demons. What the hell kind of question is that?”
He got to his feet but kept his gaze fixed on me. “Did you try to open a portal today?”
His no-nonsense questioning was seriously starting to piss me off. Never mind that he was almost on target. The implied accusation was uncalled for. He could’ve asked me without making me feel like a criminal.
I stood, ignoring the pain shooting down my leg. The wound had healed, but it would be sore for a while. I placed my hands on my hips and stared back at him with all the judgment he was laying at my feet. “What about you? How exactly do you know about demon portals?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you didn’t answer mine.” His brother was a witch. It wasn’t unfeasible that he would be knowledgeable about demons, but couldn’t he just ask what I knew about the demon without putting me on trial? The thought made my blood boil.
“Fine.” He stalked over to me and gestured for me to sit.
I held my ground.
He shook his head in exasperation and then sat across from me on his coffee table, resting his elbows on his knees. “Stand all night if you want to, but I’m fairly certain you’re still recovering. It’s probably better if you rest.”
I glanced at my leg and grimaced when I realized it was trembling slightly. Damn him for being right. Reluctantly, I sat back on the couch.
His lips twitched and a smug smile broke out on his face. I glared. The smile vanished, but the gleam in his eye didn’t. Bastard.
“Tell me what you really do for your brother,” I demanded.
“You first.”
We had a stare-off to end all stare-offs that was only broken by the incessant ringing of his phone.
“You should probably get that,” I said and leaned back into the couch.
“It’s Mitch.”
“So?”
He gave me a pointed look. “He wants answers I can’t give him.”
I sat straight up, holding back a wince from the demon slashes on my ribs. Damn, that hurt. “I knew you were asking these questions for him.” But then a realization settled over me. He’d said his brother was a contractor for someone. As a witch, that likely meant one organization. The Witches’ Council. “Wait. Am I being investigated?”
