by Anya Bast
“He never used to give me shit before you came along.”
“Come on.” Thomas dragged her toward the door, limping. “I’m about ready to pass out from hunger.”
“Or blood loss,” she muttered as she followed him out.
They went to the kitchen where Thomas dragged his bad leg around, filling a plate with leftovers and pouring a glass of red wine. He put two forks down and sat in a chair beside Isabelle.
“So, how did it go with your mother?” Thomas picked up a fork and dug into some warmed-up mashed potatoes.
Isabelle shrugged. “It was weird. She wasn’t cocky at all. She was…”
“Contrite?”
She shrugged again, smoothly took the fork from him, took a bite and handed it back. “I guess. Like I said, weird.”
He took a sip of wine. “And so?”
She sighed. “I’m not ready to flat-out forgive her for passing us around like she didn’t want us when Angela and I were kids. I’m not ready to forgive her for a lot of things.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to be.”
She took the wineglass from his hand as he set it down on the table, their fingertips brushing, and took a drink. She studied him over the rim for a moment. “But there is part of me that wants to see where this goes.”
“I’m glad, Isabelle.” He slipped the wineglass from her fingers and took a sip.
“I’m having lunch with her next week. That’s all I can commit to at this time. But I think you were right.”
He served up a forkful of food for her and she ate it. “About what?”
Isabelle chewed and swallowed, then took the fork and offered Thomas a bite, which he accepted. “About her regretting. Anyway, we’ll see what happens.”
Thomas pulled her chair closer to him and kissed her temple.
She turned her head and kissed his lips — the side that was the least damaged. “You smell like mud, blood, and demon.”
“I hurt just about everywhere, too.”
“So tell me more about what happened before I drag your ass back to Doctor Oliver.”
Thomas took a moment to reply. “Boyle told me all he wanted was to go home. There was longing in his voice when he talked about it.”
She screwed her face up. “Longing? Do you really think demons long?”
He shook his head, passed a hand over his tired-looking face. “I don’t know.”
“Why would Boyle want to go home anyway? Wasn’t he incarcerated as a criminal in his world? You’d think they’d just lock him up again if he went back. You’d think he’d know that.”
“Yeah. Who can understand what Boyle might be thinking? Maybe he thinks he can escape that fate once he gets there. Or maybe he hates this place so much he’s willing risk anything to get home.”
She turned sober. “I wonder what he’s doing right now.”
His arm tightened around her and he set his fork down.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she muttered. “Let’s not wonder.”
“Let’s not. Wondering just killed my appetite.” He pushed his plate away. “I’m sorry about being a hard-ass about you staying at the Coven.”
Her irritation, suppressed by recent events, flared. “You’re sorry? Please, Thomas, you’re a total control freak. Your need to protect those around you is admirable, but—”
He turned and cupped her cheek. “Those I care about.”
“What?”
“You said I have a need to protect those around me. The category is actually a lot narrower, Isabelle. Also, it’s not a need, it’s an obsession.”
She tried to hold on to her anger, she really did, but the look in his eyes — his one good eye, anyway — spoke such truth to what he said. Protecting people was Thomas’s calling. Her mouth twitched as she forced away a smile of happiness. She directed her gaze across the kitchen. “You should see someone for that.”
He dropped his hand from her face. “Maybe.”
Thomas picked up his wineglass and took a drink. Again Isabelle took it from his fingers without even thinking about it, raising the rim to her lips and sipping. The way they sat there so close, sharing food and wine, it was like they were a couple.
Like they were in love.
Lord and Lady, she couldn’t do this. Boyle was coming for her. Unless she could find a way to stop the demon when her number came up, she was going to die. She couldn’t allow herself to get any closer to Thomas than she already was, both for her own sake and for his. Anything else would be cruel.
She hesitated lowering the wineglass from her mouth, then set it aside and pushed away from Thomas a little. “I thought after all this was over I might try Asia for a couple of years.” She tried to sound flippant, but her voice came out tight.
Something dark flickered through his eyes. He glanced away and when he looked back at her there was mild, polite interest on his face — feigned. She could feel displeasure and anger emanating from him. “Asia? Really? Where exactly? Asia is a big place.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Thought maybe I’d start in Japan and work my way through.”
“And if I asked you to stay?”
Isabelle sighed and glanced at the door. “Haven’t you learned anything about me, Thomas? I’m not the type to stay.”
He pulled his arm from around her waist and stood. Grief bubbled up inside her from the loss of his body heat and the hurt look in his eyes. “I should get back. You coming? I don’t want you here alone.”
Isabelle watched him limp to the doorway and then through it. She gripped the edge of the table, forcing herself to not run after him and tell him that if there was any man in the world she would settle in one place for, it was him. Despite his stupid protectiveness. Despite his control issues.
She rose to follow him slowly, forcing herself not to run after him and tell him about Boyle and the position the demon had put her in: her life for another witch’s. Isabelle wanted — needed — his support and advice. But she couldn’t do that, no matter how much she wanted it. Thomas would try and protect her from Boyle at all costs, and the demon had already told her he’d kill Thomas if he got in his way. Isabelle couldn’t let him risk his life, because she knew she was falling in love with him.
This time she would be the one to protect him.
THOMAS AWOKE TO FINGERS RUFFLING THROUGH HIS hair and the sweet scent and warmth of a woman’s breath on his cheek. His eyelids lifted a moment to see that Isabelle had climbed into bed with him.
She had no intention of staying. He wanted to kick himself for the moment he’d allowed himself to hope.
She’d shown up at his door only moments after he’d arrived home saying she wanted to sleep in the guest room. It was lucky she’d come on her own. Physically, he hadn’t felt like dragging her over, even though he would have. Thomas had opened the door and let her in, but hadn’t said much because he was still hurt and pissed off that she’d made it pretty clear she was just using him for sex.
He could give her sex, but Thomas suspected she wanted—needed—the other things he had to give, too.
She was just too afraid to take them.
He moved, wrapping his arms around her and rolling to the side. The sheets tangled between him and her long, slim—nude—body as he pulled her underneath him. Isabelle was only a temporary addition to his life, a fleeting whisper, transitory, and impossible to keep.
But damned if he wasn’t going to try and hold on to her anyway.
Thomas slid his good knee between her thighs and winced when the other knee protested the weight he placed on it.
Her cool hand slid up his shoulder. “Doctor told me you twisted your knee. I promise I’ll be gentle with you.” She bit her lower lip. “I needed to touch you tonight.”
He forcibly spread her thighs and pressed the length of his cock against her heat, making her gasp. The only thing that separated them was the sheet and he’d soon make that disappear. “Gentle is the last thing I want from you.”
She smiled and raised her l
eg to run her heel up his calf and the back of his thigh. “So you sleep in the nude.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer flannel?”
She licked her lower lip. “Only if I could take it off you. I like you much better without clothes.” She reached up and traced the edge of the bandage that covered his forehead. “But maybe my coming in here wasn’t a good idea.”
“Why are you here, anyway? Just using me for sex again?”
She pursed her lips. “Got a problem with that?”
“I’m a man. Do you really think so?”
Isabelle laughed softly and pushed up at him. He allowed it, letting her force him onto his back so she could straddle him. The heat of her sex teased his cock.
Her gaze explored him for a moment. “I love that lazy look you get on your face right before we have sex. I love the flex of the muscles in your arms and chest when you touch me. I love—” She bit off the end of her sentence and stared at him a moment before glancing away.
“Are you getting shy? You?”
Isabelle ducked her head and brushed her lips across his. Thomas snaked his hand to the nape of her neck and pressed her mouth down on his so he could part her lips and lazily swipe his tongue against hers. She sighed and kissed him back, pushing her tongue into his mouth more aggressively.
I’m keeping you, Isabelle. You just don’t know it yet.
NINETEEN
ISABELLE BROKE THE KISS AND MOVED DOWN HIS throat, kissing, nipping, and licking. She worked her way down his chest, her warm, moist lips exploring every inch of his skin. When she reached his abdomen, she dragged her tongue down his flesh until she reached his cock. Isabelle gave him a single coy look and then engulfed the head of his shaft in her mouth. All his nerve endings shot to life. Thomas tipped his head back and groaned.
He threaded his fingers through her hair and fisted, stopping himself from thrusting gently into her mouth. Her ability to render him completely helpless with the swipe of her tongue always amazed him.
She moved over him while pulling the length of his cock into the warm, wet recesses of her mouth and skating her tongue up and down. Her hair brushed his thighs and made him jump. His balls felt ready to explode and pleasure tingled through his body, but when he went, he wanted to be buried deep inside her sex, not down her throat. He wanted to feel the evidence of her pleasure rippling around his cock before that happened.
“Isabelle.” It came out in an agonized-sounding groan.
She ignored him, glancing up at him once and then sucking his length between her lips once more. Isabelle swirled her tongue around the sensitive underside of the crown on her outward mouth stroke. Clearly, she meant business.
Thomas forced himself up from Shangri-la to seek heaven. He eased her off him and twisted, pinning her face down on his king size bed beneath him in one smooth movement.
Isabelle gasped into the blankets and mattress. “Your knee!”
He hovered over her and spread her thighs. “Hardly noticed it. You’re the best kind of painkiller.” He dragged his fingers over her sex and she wiggled beneath him.
Isabelle raised her hips, fitting her sweet ass against his groin and arching the smooth slope of her back. Placing a hand to the curve of her hip, he leaned over to lick and nibble his way down her spine. She turned her head to the side and he watched her tongue steal out to wet her lips, her eyes closed and her long, dark eyelashes swept down on her passion-rosy cheeks.
Her fingers fisted in the covers on either side of her and she moved her hips, looking for a way to slide his cock inside her. Thomas slipped his hand between the mattress and her stomach, seeking and finding that hot place where she wanted to be touched. Finding her clit, he rubbed it with his index finger. She gasped and moaned into the blankets.
She tried to push up, but he kept her pinned there as he caressed her into a thrashing frenzy, but stopped just short of making her come. Then he slipped two fingers into her warm, wet heat and pumped. Isabelle moved her hips in time to his thrusts, an action that almost made him lose his mind.
Embracing his sudden and feral need to claim her, Thomas forced her thighs apart and grasped her hips, pulling her upward to impale her on his cock. In one smooth move, he set the head of his shaft to her entrance and thrust inside, seating himself to the base in all that wet heat.
She arched her back, grabbing fistfuls of blanket. Her breath came out in a gasp, then a moan.
At the same time, Thomas dropped down over her back and sank his teeth into the nape of her neck as he began to ride her.
Isabelle exploded in climax beneath him, the muscles of her sex clenching and releasing around his cock. She panted and thrashed, moving on his thrusting shaft. Thomas fought not to come. He wanted this to last.
Thomas threw his head back, his hair falling around them both as he pumped into her harder and faster. They probably had the appearance of one animal with no beginning or end as they moved together on the bed. She pressed up against him, gaining leverage with her knees and hands so she could push back against him, meeting his thrusts into her sweet body.
Thomas let his hand play around her now exposed front, running over her stomach, teasing her nipples and cupping her breasts.
“I’m coming again,” she gasped. Isabelle shuddered beneath him as another climax drove through her. This time Thomas let go, too. Pleasure exploded from the depths of him and poured into her.
They collapsed in a tangle on the mattress, each wrapped up in the other. His cock pulled from her body as she moved and he felt the loss of that connection. He dragged her against him and she tucked her head under his chin.
“I’m not letting you go, Isabelle,” he murmured into the top of her head.
She stiffened against him. “You’re going to have to.” Her voice sounded flat, expressionless.
Thomas lay still for a moment before speaking. “I want you and I always get what I want.”
He’d expected her to get angry at the arrogance of his comment — even though he meant every word. Instead, she rolled to the side and laughed. Idly, she picked up a length of his hair and wound it around her finger. “The world has winds, Thomas. Sometimes they blow us where we don’t want to go.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She shrugged and unwound the tendril of his hair. “Whatever you want it to mean. How’s your knee?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker. What we just did wasn’t ordered in my physical therapy.” His knee would be healed soon anyway. A few good sessions with the Coven fire witches would see it improved in a matter of days.
“A good soak in that massive bathtub would probably make it feel better.”
“That’s a hint, isn’t it? I still smell like mud, blood, and demon, right?”
She propped herself up on her elbow and grinned. “Well, yes, but it’s true that water makes everything feel better.”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to move.”
She rolled off the bed and he got an excellent view of her lovely heart-shaped rear as she disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later he heard water filling his sunken spa tub.
He propped himself up on the pillows just in time to see one of Isabelle’s lithe legs appear around the side of door frame. She slowly dragged her heel up the wood…and Thomas was up and out of bed in a flash, twisted knee bedamned.
As soon as she heard him coming, Isabelle scampered into the water, which she’d filled with bubble bath. He gaped at the lavender-and rose-scented mountain of foam. It smelled like a rainbow had puked. “Where the hell did you find that stuff?”
“It was hidden in the back of one of your cabinets.”
She stood and Thomas raked his gaze over her — pink nipples peeking from the white froth, bubbles sliding down her legs.
Revising his opinion of the fragrant froth, he limped to the tub. “Thank the Lord and Lady.”
ISABELLE ACCEPTED A SMALL VIAL OF A METALLIC substance from Micah and held it up to the light. The fluid wit
hin looked like liquid gold. “It’s charmed copper, you said?”
Micah nodded and took the vial back from her. He gestured at Thomas who stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. “We had Thomas and a group of our best Coven earth witches work on a special blend of magick that will keep small amounts of copper in a liquefied form. We don’t have much of it, unfortunately.”
She turned to stare at Thomas. “How are you able to do this?”
He uncrossed his arms. “It wasn’t easy. The only way we were able to do it all is because copper comes from copper ore and occasionally from crystal chunks, both a part of the Earth originally. That makes it much easier for us. It took a while but we were able to develop an earth charm that keeps it liquid in very limited quantities.”
“So you’re hoping that getting it into Boyle’s bloodstream will cause a massive reaction and kill him?”
“That’s the general plan,” answered Micah. He paused and pursed his lips. “Of course it may be like a bee stinging a bull, too. We might just piss him off.”
Isabelle gritted her teeth, thinking of the little girl. “I’m more than willing to take a shot and find out. What’s the method of delivery?”
Micah turned to a table where various implements lay. “Like I said, we don’t have much liquid copper.” He picked up something that looked like a semiautomatic handgun. “We have a couple of these stun guns, loaded with hollow bullets filled with it. That’s about it.”
She took the gun from him and examined it. “Explain to me why we can’t make more liquid copper.”
“Because in order to make the charm, we need francium,” Thomas answered.
Isabelle lifted a brow in question. “And this francium person can’t come to the charm-making party or what?”
Micah rolled his eyes. “Francium is a very rare naturally occurring element. It’s not like you can order vats of it over the Internet.”
“Okay, sorry for not getting straight A’s in francium class. I just wondered if you had enough left to make me up a syringe.” She held her forefinger and thumb close together. “Just a little?”
Thomas took the stun gun back from her and set it on the table. “Do you plan on getting that close to him? Because I don’t like that idea.”
