She sobbed—not in pain, but in pleasure. He swallowed her every moan, following instinct and driving his fingers in over and over until she tightened around him like a vise. When she was almost there, Charlie wrenched his mouth away from hers, took it down to a burning path towards one stiff nipple that poked through the fabric of her dress. He sucked.
And she exploded.
*****
They had to come down from their massive high soon. When she did, her eyes were no longer blurry and her body was no longer in pain. In truth, she looked like a woman who had been thoroughly pleased, and everything in him ached to ravage her again and again and again.
Instead, he held on to his last shred of control and informed her of their next move.
A charged pause came in the air. Then Francesca nodded her head, thanking him for helping her and going out first.
The sight of her back made him want.
But there were certain things one should never want, much less have.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Trying to find a witch coven in Hollywood if you were a normal being would have been impossible and not the brightest thing in the world, considering covens usually consisted of witches gathering around to either do good…or very evil stuff. It was basically the evil stuff that made any sane person stay away, especially if they weren’t into that kind of thing.
Trying to find a witch coven in Hollywood while pretending to be one of those not-so-normal worshippers wasn’t impossible at all—and it was highly, highly insane.
At least, Francesca thought so.
Dealing with Mya had already been a handful. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with a whole big group of that in one sitting. But Charlie had insisted that this was their best lead, and she did promise to herself that Red deserved better. So she sucked it up and went ahead with his crazy scheme, which was to act like they were the biggest witch worshippers in town.
The recruiting was a secret thing, apparently, located on the outskirts of the city where trailer parks were lined up and the neighborhood police wasn’t likely to roam around. It was nighttime when they arrived in the area, they quietly followed the clues given by Charlie’s source, armed from the cold with their robes and from any source of violence with some basic weapons. As they passed by the trailers and tried their best not to disturb anyone (or make any noise, for that matter), Francesca fingered the potion Red had given her hidden in her robe, a reminder of what she had come to Los Angeles for. The dilemma of taking it had never stopped leaving her mind, even with all the problems that came stacking day by day as they got deeper into their search for Mya. On one hand, taking it would lift off all the pain and ugliness away.
On the other, it would take every cherished memory along with it.
Francesca decided to set those conflicted thoughts aside for now, and decided when the time was right she would figure it out. She was good at that lately—setting things aside, particularly her feelings for the man beside her. She glanced at him as they walked past the trailers, noting his panther grace and keeping in stride as best as she could. She matched his coolness and calm, let the worries slip away from her bit by bit.
It worked, for a while.
The area led to a cliff hidden by a line of pine trees, where Charlie deduced a ward was located, hidden from the usual eyes. He had apparently managed to steal a stone that could tell a ward was nearby, and the stone was now glowing in his hand to indicate they were going in the right direction.
AKA, they had to step over the cliff.
Francesca let her feet step to the edge, and she peeked down. A black abyss stared back at her, startlingly in contrast with the stars winking in the sky above. An uncomfortable feeling settled on her shoulders, and she slowly rolled them in annoyance. She stepped back and glanced at Charlie.
“We’re really doing this?”
He looked down, too. Then he nodded his head. “Sure.”
Charlie put one foot forward, then another. Gravity sucked him down, and she raced to the edge again to stare. No sign of him.
With a deep breath, Francesca closed her eyes. Then she put a foot forward, and another, and went down.
Only it wasn’t really down.
The same sucking sensation that she felt in the cave enveloped her now, along with the chill. Colors burst. Within seconds, the sensation was gone as reality came back and she was dragged onto solid ground. Her knees wobbled, but a hand shot out to grab her elbow and steady her.
“Careful, sweetheart,” the voice murmured.
Right. They were pretend lovers.
Forcing a bright smile on her face, Francesca looked up. Her smile froze as she took in the sight of the campground filled with ordinary-looking people. But of course they weren’t ordinary, and the energy in the air made sure everyone that had gone through the ward was aware of it. There were about a hundred people there, some milling about and others standing in groups. With a quiet nudge, Charlie led them forward until they were in the center of the throng, where a table filled with candles was located.
An elderly man that had gray hair and the greenest eyes Francesca had ever seen saw them approach and regarded them with interest. As if he already belonged there, Charlie went straight to the man and began the show.
He transformed. The calm, no-nonsense Charlie became the calm, eager Charlie, and he began telling the man the tale of how he heard about this gathering and wanted to earn the honor of being a part of it. He worked the role to the fullest, introducing himself as a wealthy investor from Japan, until the older man gave him a smile that was very welcome and open.
“I’m glad to hear you want to be a part of us. Alexander, you say? It is my honor to have a successful person like yourself be interested in our modest gathering.”
Modest, ha. There were candles floating in the air, magic flying here and there, and a certain arrogance in the area that signified modesty was the last thing on their minds. Francesca almost laughed, but those green eyes were suddenly zoning in on her, pinning her in place.
Remembering her role, Francesca made herself transform, too—into a sweet, loving woman who was there to support her fiancé in the role he wanted to partake in this most important function.
The elderly man’s name was Josiah Long, and he showed them a campfire and asked them to be comfortable. Soon, all the coven members were asking the attendees to all take their seats around the fire, and a buzz scattered around as excitement grew in the air.
The fire floated from the ground, a pretty trick, and Josiah stepped forward and introduced himself as the coven leader for a couple of years now. He then introduced his wife, Lolita—a beautiful woman in her late forties who charmed the crowd with her affable personality and sweet sense of humor. Then a son was introduced, along with a daughter—both blond, good-looking, and sweetly eloquent as they welcomed the crowd and hoped they could tap into their inner magic.
It was all so picture-perfect, and a trickle of unease slid inside Francesca as she shifted in her seat. A warm hand wrapped around hers, easing her closer. It stilled her right away, offering comfort as much as it offered an awareness that made concentrating difficult.
Lolita began discussing with the group the good deeds their coven did, which included charity work and helping out young witches become stronger and guiding them into leadership roles all over the world. It was all pleasant talk, and Francesca almost rolled her eyes at the fakeness of it all. As if sensing it, Charlie pinched her waist. She sneered.
And then he was pulling her to his lap, and his mouth was softly kissing her shoulder. Francesca froze, confused at the sudden action. She opened her mouth to protest—and stopped when his hand dug at her waist. Like a puzzle clicking into place, she glanced down to gather her expression, then glanced back up with a subtle sweep of the area.
Josiah was at his wife’s back, and his eyes were astutely observing them. He may or may not have seen her sneer.
Francesca pretended she didn’t see him. She glan
ced back down again, tried to regroup, and closed her eyes. Then she leaned her body against Charlie’s and depicted the image of a woman enjoying every bit of a too-pleasant woman’s speech, which she had to admit even to herself wasn’t very successful.
Charlie's hands splayed on her stomach, lazy circles trailing heat with its movements. His mouth peppered her with soft kisses on her back and hair as Lolita went on, even while he kept himself mentally detached. A terrible ache started inside Francesca, a mourning for his lack of reaction and her own growing arousal. Unable to stop herself, she wrapped her hand on top of his, guiding his palm down from her stomach to the place that ached the most.
His hand went rigid, even while his mouth continued its onslaught. She felt his hardness against her ass, and every sensitized part of her body called out for her to move. She did once, subtly—and felt his breath catch, and his kisses go still.
He wasn’t unaffected. She’d been wrong all along.
And the realization gave her sheer joy.
The joy was short-lived, replaced by something else as Charlie made a move that had shock flowing in her system. In a deft, subtle move, he shifted her body until she was sitting fully in his lap. His hardness settled on her curve, and inside the coverage of their robe, with her skirt spread out on top of them, he thrust up into her clothed core.
Her vision blurred at the intense pleasure. Her mind blanked, even while she kept her gaze straight ahead.
Josiah was still watching them, and a quick glance at him told her he was now solely watching her, and had incorrectly translated her reaction as worship for them. It was a douse of cold water, and Francesca suddenly found herself uncomfortable as realization slowly sunk in.
She turned her head to the side, pretended to smile at Charlie.
“You did that on purpose,” she whispered in accusation under her breath.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
His purpose had been to incite the pleasure in her face, for Josiah to translate incorrectly as worship. It was dirty, and it was necessary. Those probing eyes were gone.
Charlie’s erection throbbed against her again, and for the first time, Francesca felt a certain knowledge come to light. He might have started it as a means to an end, but he ended up wanting her.
Charlie wanted her, even now.
A sense of power came over her, and she lightly traced her fingers on his. His hand tightened on hers.
“Don’t,” he said, voice hoarse. “Not now.”
“You want me,” she said in awe.
“Not here.”
It was the most inconvenient timing in the world, and she could have screamed in frustration at his confession. Instead, Francesca tried to steady herself by listening to Lolita again and focusing on the words.
The pleasant tone was still there as the woman talked about how shifters and vampires were the root of all evil in their modern society—and how it was absolutely beneficial to all of them to unite and stand up against such evil.
The unease grew. With a sense of foreboding, Francesca felt the shifting of the tide around them, as faces grew angry and a very terrible feeling became common in the seated group.
Hatred.
Hatred for her kind.
It was the ultimate cock block, and they both knew it. Quietly, Charlie shifted her again until she was respectfully still sitting in his lap, but away from his arousal. His breathing went back to normal as he became serious, and he held her hand as they witnessed the crowd’s passion and animosity reach a cold-blooded conclusion.
“We will form a plan,” Lolita said solemnly, voice clear and full of care. “We will stop them once and for all.”
It was the eeriest combination ever.
*****
When the gathering was done, Josiah approached them personally, his eyes taking note of Charlie’s expensive shoes and the diamond ring on Francesca’s finger—a knockoff, but he didn’t know that. His voice was warm as he invited them to join the initiation that was to happen in a few minutes. Charlie smiled, telling Josiah how much the speech had emboldened him to act. Then he stepped forward and pulled Francesca with him.
As they approached the area of initiation, Francesca’s foreboding feeling returned. There was no doubt about it.
Shit was soon about to hit the fan, and they were right in the middle of it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The coven's initiation area was located right near a cliff, similar to the one they jumped off earlier to pass through the ward. The only difference in this one were the trees, a younger version of the other's old pines, as well as the floating candles that followed the group. Josiah's son led the way, directing the newbies where to stand and what to do. Josiah then took over, explaining that this last step would determine their commitment to the group. If they had no magic by the end, it didn't matter—they could still help out in this crusade against evil.
Apparently, the initiation went like this: one had to stand in the middle of the circled candles, declare to the group their loyalty and the reason they were joining the cause, then step off the cliff where another ward was located—one that would lead them to their permanent residence, where tents and amenities were set up for their convenience.
Women went first, then men. Couples were to go last, together.
Charlie watched as people stepped forward one by one, differing expressions on their faces. Some were eager, while others were more nervous than they let on. They openly declared their dislike for the vampires, wanting said creatures fully gone and suffering before death. There were also some declarations of how shifters were just as bad as the vampires, and their current alliance should not be taken for granted.
Then it was their turn. Francesca stepped forward first, taking a deep breath as she reached the floating candles. The light illuminated her hair, and she was the picture of calm and confidence.
“I declare my loyalty to this cause,” she announced in a soft voice. “I was attacked by a shifter a few years ago, and my life has never been the same. Alex here has made me...realize that you just need to move forward and look to the future.”
Coffee eyes met his, steady. An emotion lurked inside him, threatening to break out. Calmly, he stepped forward and joined her in the circle, facing the crowd.
“I declare my loyalty,” he announced, without specifying the coven. “When I was a kid and had taken a fall, a shifter had decided to take advantage and beat me until I was near death. I was my father's favorite, the village future head, and the shifter hated that.” While the memory was blurry, he could still remember the beating—done by his brother, no less. That was a long time ago, and he had decided to leave for Japan and let his brother have the village. Now, he was the only one left.
A hand squeezed his, and Charlie found Francesca looking at him in understanding. Then they both stepped forward, and with one last look at the group, they stepped off the cliff.
The moment they did, Charlie knew something was wrong. He expected the icy sensation to envelope them the moment they were off the cliff, but there was none. Instead, they kept on falling down. He tried to shift while her hand was still in his, but only the sound of the wind enveloped them as nothing happened. He immediately understood what had transpired.
Josiah had been playing them all along, and some sort of magic was at work the moment they stepped off the cliff, which prevented him from shifting.
Which meant they were going to fall down in the darkness, with no net and no idea what was below.
For the first time in a long time, nervousness filled Charlie as he realized he didn't know what to do. He felt Francesca flailing beside him, reaching out for her automatically and every instinct in his body screaming at him to protect. With only a few seconds to spare, he wrapped her in his arms and covered her. His sensitized hearing picked up the faint crashing of waves. Relying on that thin clue, Charlie twisted their bodies until their feet were facing down.
The water met them before he could so much as
take a deep breath. It was cold and it was brutal, and the speed of their fall made the speed of their dive just as fast. The moment they lost momentum, he kicked his feet and did his best to bring them back up. His head popped out of the water, and so did Francesca’s.
“Are you—?”
The wave crashed around him, bringing him back down. He felt Francesca getting separated, and they furiously swam towards each other, fighting the current. Francesca got word out first.
“Swim. Shore.”
Then the wave brought them under again.
At this point, there was no longer any leeway to talk. Charlie saved his energy for breathing and trying to stay afloat. They developed a system where they breathed as much air as they could before the waves took them under, then repeated the process over and over. He did his best to keep her in his line of vision as they spotted an island on the horizon and deduced that was the best chance of survival. Whatever the coven had done, it had extended to this distance because he still couldn’t shift.
It was while these thoughts were in his head that another crash of wave took him to another direction, breaking his focus and his swim. He looked around and felt his blood run cold.
Francesca was gone.
He fought the panic that bloomed. The short observation he had confirmed that she was a good swimmer, and perhaps she was just faster than him in reaching the island. He took a dive down, but it was too dark to see anything. In any case, there was nothing floating around, so she definitely was headed for the island.
She had to be.
Charlie swam. He swam too fast for the first time in his life, forgetting technique to calm himself as the only thing he wanted was to make sure she got to swim to safety. Exhaustion threatened to pull him under from his effort, but he lunged on and swam like his life depended on it. He stumbled on the island in no time, eyes seeking for any sign of life.
A lone figure was there, face down on the sand and immobile.
Dragon: The Clan Legacy Series Page 36
