Witch Hunt
Page 25
Suddenly shy, I hesitated before picking a spot. Should I sit next to Miles? At the opposite end of the couch? He’d flopped down on one corner of the couch, leaving the chaise and a few more cushions open, and Mercy took one bowl of popcorn and hopped onto the longer chaise. I split the difference and sat between them, resting the bowl of popcorn between Miles and me, and held my breath as I put my feet up on the coffee table. Cricket grumbled and complained as he sauntered by and eventually curled up on the chenille throw that Mercy dragged across her legs.
The movie, some kind of mindless action superhero something, started and no one spoke, just munched on popcorn and occasionally got up for another beer. I started to relax. It really had been a long time since I’d had a movie night, and I wanted to take advantage of it, even if Miles took up a lot of space next to me.
Chapter 41
Miles
Evershaw would have sat there all night if it meant being that close to Deirdre as she relaxed and breathed easy. She even joked with Mercy periodically and every now and then, their fingers would brush when they both reached for popcorn at the same time. He hadn’t expected her to catch him feeding the cat, but it was probably just as well from the expression on her face. She’d been surprised and relieved.
And he was still mentally shaking his head and laughing over their little argument about his ego and her pouting. God help him, he was in trouble. No woman had dared give him that kind of shit in years, except maybe Ruby O’Shea, and he hadn’t enjoyed that nearly as much as when the witch narrowed her eyes and gave him those dark looks. He couldn’t ever let Deirdre know how much she affected him, how tightly he was already wound around her little finger, otherwise he’d never live it down and definitely wouldn’t get shit done.
He didn’t know how long he’d stay awake though, since the wolf had settled down the moment he knew Deirdre was safe and fed inside his den. His eyes started to droop about halfway through the movie even though he was hyper-aware that the witch was in the room. Mercy kept checking her phone, leaning away, and when Deirdre asked her who she was texting with, the younger woman clammed up.
Which was apparently the wrong tack to take with the witch. Deirdre tried to wheedle more information out of her, and when that didn’t work, Deirdre lunged halfway across the couch and seized the phone. Mercy said, “Give it back!” but Deirdre scrambled back until she was practically in Evershaw’s lap, scrolling through the messages.
She’d gotten through half a dozen before she started laughing and Evershaw peered at the screen to figure out what the fuck was going on. Mercy pleaded with Deirdre to hand it over, but the witch kept scrolling and shaking her head.
Evershaw eyed them both; he couldn’t remember the last time a couple of girls were giggling and whispering around him and it hadn’t pissed him off, but he didn’t entirely mind with Deirdre and Mercy. Not entirely. “What’s the deal?”
Deirdre managed to keep control of the phone despite Mercy’s best efforts to steal it back, and the witch laughed and shouted as she dodged the other woman’s attempt to cover her mouth to keep her from revealing the secret. “It’s Todd. Wanting to know how our date is going.”
Mercy shrieked and tackled the witch to the floor, finally wrestling away the phone and scampering across the room, no doubt to warn Todd he was busted. Evershaw tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, sighing. He’d have to kick Todd’s ass for sure, because he was reasonably certain his second-in-command sent Mercy not just to spy and report back on how Evershaw and Deirdre were getting along, but also to cock-block him in case he wanted to convince the witch to stop watching movies and do something a little more active instead.
Deirdre sat up, her hair standing up in a tangled mess and her eyes sparking with mischief. “Our date? Is this a date?”
“Todd thinks so,” he said. He kept his face stony, not wanting to reveal his irritation in case she misinterpreted it—or that she correctly interpreted it. “What did he bribe you with, Mercy?”
The other wolf stayed in the kitchen, still texting. “Um, a vacation in Bermuda. I didn’t want to mess things up for you but I’ve never been to Bermuda and I heard they have pink sand beaches and really nice perfume and even a jewelry store that makes jewelry with the pink sand and—”
“What happened to the girl code?” Deirdre said. She hauled herself up off the floor and flopped onto the couch, close enough that her thigh brushed Evershaw’s, and he held his breath. It could have been accidental, but it also could have been deliberate. “I’d use your middle name to holler at you if I knew it, Mercy, but damn. You were third-wheeling it on purpose?”
“It’s Sassafras,” Evershaw said under his breath.
Deirdre whipped her head around to stare at him. “Seriously? Her middle name is Sassafras?”
“No,” Mercy said. Her whole face stayed red, though she tried to recover her dignity. “It’s Meredith. Mercy Meredith Evershaw. He tried to change it to Sassafras when he adopted me, but I caught the paperwork before the judge signed it.”
And then something in Deirdre stilled, maybe softened, as she looked at him. “You adopted her?”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “She was just a kid, what was I supposed to do?”
Mercy stomped up and handed her phone over to Evershaw. “You tell him he’s busted and it wasn’t my fault, because then he won’t let me go to Bermuda.”
“You’ll go to Bermuda,” Deirdre said. She leaned back and put her feet up on the coffee table, still smiling as she watched the younger woman. “I’ll go with you. Pink sand sounds right up my alley. I might have to sell a kidney to afford it, but I’ll go.”
Mercy eyed her. “You’re not mad? About the girl code?”
“I’ll survive,” the witch said, and damn him if she didn’t wink at Mercy. “Besides, it’s pretty funny. I didn’t realize you wolves were so nosy and gossipy. I’d expect that from jackals, maybe, but not wolves.”
“You’ve got no idea,” Mercy said. She glanced at Evershaw. “You’re not mad, boss?”
He managed to un-stick his face enough to muster half a smile. “Not at you. I’ll have a word with Todd tomorrow.”
“And I can still go to Bermuda?”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, wanting her to suffer just a bit as he let the silence stretch. Except he couldn’t tolerate the pained look on her face and gave in after a few seconds. “Yeah. Maybe wait until it’s not hurricane season so we don’t have to worry about you being blown away in the winds.”
Mercy hopped up and down in excitement and bolted for the door, calling over her shoulder, “Enjoy the movie or making out or whatever you’re going to do!” and didn’t look back.
Evershaw shook his head. “I swear to God, these people...”
“Oh, hush,” Deirdre said. “You like to act all annoyed and shit, but you’re not. You like them and they like you and that’s okay. That’s how it’s supposed to be when you’ve got a family. Right?”
He eyed her. “Is that a question or a statement?”
“I don’t know,” she said. Her expression turned pensive. “I never had a big family, and the coven definitely wasn’t... like this. So maybe partly question, partly statement. I’ve watched enough afterschool specials to know that big families fight and make up and everything is fine after an hour. You’re trying to tell me that’s not how it is?”
“It might take longer than an hour.” And he chuckled, imagining all the fun he’d have kicking Todd’s ass the next morning. What a dick.
She sighed and leaned back against the big cushions, still close enough that he could have put his arms on the back of the couch and her head would have rested in the crook of his elbow. He hardly dared to breathe as she reached for the remote and unpaused the movie, going back to it like it was all normal and maybe an actual date, and Evershaw waited until she relaxed before he draped his arm along the top of the cushions. Just in case the opportunity to pull her a little closer came up.
He spent way too much time wondering if she’d done that because he’d put his arm on the cushion behind her head, but after a second he pushed away whatever fucking doubts there were. What the fuck difference did it make why she did it? It was an interesting opportunity, not something to suffer over. If he wanted his answer, he had to make a move.
He reached down and touched her ankle, letting his palm rest against the fragile bones of her foot and the slow swell of her calf. Her breathing didn’t change and she didn’t kick him, which he took as a good sign.
So he hauled both of her feet into his lap and started on the first foot rub he’d given in his entire fucking life. She felt so small and breakable in his hands, it was easy to remember she wasn’t like his wolves. She wasn’t anything like Ashley. He growled a little under his breath and pushed away any memories of his ex. That was in the past and good riddance. He needed to look forward for real, and that meant Deirdre.
And the witch made one of those soft, pleased sounds that almost made him groan in anticipation. If that was the response he got with a foot rub, he couldn’t wait to figure out the sounds she’d make when he was really trying to get her off. She even stretched and sighed, like her damn cat, and pressed her feet against his palms.
He let his hand slide up her calf, under the loose yoga pants or whatever the hell they were, and teased the back of her knee. Deirdre moved from her side to her back, gazing at him through the near-darkness, and Evershaw’s heart beat a little faster.
His hands stilled, cradling her feet, as he stared at her and felt the whole world reorder itself. His entire reality changed with her green eyes. The wolf side howled, wanting to declare to the entire fucking world that he’d found the other half of his soul. There in the stillness and quiet, with a shitty action flick murmuring in the background, he knew for a fact that Deirdre was his match—in all the ways that mattered.
She gave him shit and didn’t take any of his, and she liked his pack. They liked her. They might even like her more than they liked him. And Deirdre had more power than he’d expected his mate to have. He’d never even considered a witch being his. He wanted to know everything about her—good, bad, and ugly—and wanted her to know the best parts of him. The worst parts... well, they’d cross that bridge when they came to it.
“What are you thinking?” Deirdre asked.
He could have lied. He could have come up with something smarmy or dickish or whatever. But before he came up with anything, the truth slipped out. “That I don’t want to be an asshole when I’m around you. And I like being an asshole.”
He saw a hint of her smile as the television flickered. “You don’t say.”
Evershaw squeezed her ankle. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“It’s not a very good thing,” she said gently, like she broke bad news.
He grumbled and shrugged, since it would be a hard habit to break. And not really a habit he wanted to break. “It works for me. Keeps everyone else at a distance, prevents people from thinking they see weakness, and leaves everyone else off balance.”
“Doesn’t seem like you want to keep me at a distance,” she said. And she pushed her foot against his hands, arching her eyebrows in challenge.
“Girl, you have no idea how much self-control it’s taking to keep you this far away,” he said under his breath, and squeezed her ankles to show her.
Deirdre huffed a quiet little laugh, sliding lower on the cushions, and raised her arms over her head in a pose that practically screamed in invitation. He groaned and ran his hands up her calves and then up the outside of her thighs, looking for her hips, and the witch wiggled so nicely he growled for real. His knee dented the cushion between hers as he moved over her, lowering himself carefully so he could kiss her.
She melted into him, arching her back, and linked her arms around his neck to keep him close. Evershaw took advantage as her lips parted, tasting all of her, and squeezed her ass to encourage her thighs a little farther apart. Deirdre caught his lower lip in her teeth, sucking just enough it made him think of those perfect lips around his cock, and he gripped a handful of her hair so he could recapture her mouth. Deirdre ran her nails against his skin, under his T-shirt, and sent shivers through every inch of him.
Evershaw started to drag the hem of her pants down, wanting to touch more of her, but Deirdre whipped her hand down to catch at his. He froze, waiting, and searched her face for a hint of what caused the shyness. She hid her face against his shoulder, her voice muffled. “Can we just…slow down a bit?”
He wanted to groan and push her a little more, maybe try to get her over whatever bothered her, but the part of him that didn’t want to be an asshole around her sure as fuck didn’t want to be an asshole to her.
When he didn’t speak, Deirdre pulled away, trying to roll out from under him. “I’m sorry. It’s…I know it’s not fair to lead you on. I really didn’t think—”
“Hey now,” he said. He caught her face and smoothed his thumb over her cheek, trying to catch her gaze. “What’s going on?”
“I shouldn’t have started kissing you if I wasn’t…wasn’t ready to do…more.” She stared up at him, face red, and seemed to curl in on herself, twisting her body away.
Evershaw sighed. He didn’t know how the fuck to be sensitive. He really didn’t. And she needed someone sensitive to listen to shit like that and stay calm. Because all the wolf wanted to do was smother her and wrap her up and hold her as tight and as close as they could until she wasn’t upset or afraid.
She curled up even more and covered her face, a hitch in her breathing. “I’m really sorry. I’ll go back to the other rooms and I’ll take Cricket. I won’t bother you.”
“Deirdre,” he murmured, and she went still. He played with her hair and slowly sat back, dragging her with him until she sprawled across his chest. He kept his arms around her, even when she squirmed around so much it would have taken a saint to keep from trying to drag her pants down. Evershaw took a breath and didn’t let her reddened eyes distract him. “You’re under no obligation to fuck me, witch, even if you want to kiss me. I mean, I can understand why you’d want to kiss me, because I’m the sexiest son of a bitch you’ve ever met, but that doesn’t mean you have to do anything with me unless you really want to. Get it?”
She took a wobbly breath. “But—”
“But nothing.” He leaned up and brushed his lips to hers, wanting to stop her from saying something that would get him even more riled up and angry. Clearly some of her experiences had not been good ones, or even fully consenting, if she thought making out had to lead to sex. He’d forgotten she was still rather young under all the attitude and bad-assery, and it kicked his protective instincts into overdrive. “And I’m sure as fuck not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t even argue or try to convince you, because I’m not that kind of guy.”
“Thought you were an asshole,” she said. She didn’t meet his gaze but instead stared at his nose and ran her fingertips along his cheekbone.
“To everyone but you, babe.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Got it?”
Deirdre started to relax against him, resting her head on his chest and shoulder, tucking her forehead against his neck. Her arms slid under his shoulders until she stroked the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
He linked his arms around her and nuzzled into her hair, keeping himself still as her hips settled against his and her thigh moved between his as she got comfortable. “Then try to restrain yourself from taking advantage of me, girl.”
He felt her smile against his neck. He stroked her back, over and over, until she sighed and relaxed even more and her eyela
shes brushed his skin. It was a long time before she spoke, her words so quiet they almost disappeared in the sound of his own heartbeat. “Maybe I’ve only met the kind of men who do argue and pressure.”
“Those weren’t men,” he said, and squeezed her tighter. “They were boys. And if you tell me where they live, I’ll go and rip their throats out.”
He thought she smiled again, but it seemed like he blinked and she was sound asleep, still curled up on his chest with her hands in his hair and the soft hush of her breathing in his ear. Evershaw closed his eyes and didn’t dare move in case it disturbed her. He grunted when that damn cat hopped onto the couch and then climbed over his head to get to Deirdre, and curled up at the small of her back. The fucking thing started purring, his eyes slitted as he watched Evershaw, and the wolf growled in warning. The cat might have been there first, but Deirdre was definitely his.
Chapter 42
Deirdre
I’d been all about getting naked with Miles right up until he was there on the couch with me, over me, the intensity of his gaze unnerving, and then I panicked. He was just too... raw. Too primal. Like a predator who wanted to eat me up but also a man who knew what he wanted—and I was it. He was too strong and intense. I shivered with it as I dozed on his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart.
And instead of pushing me to do more, he backed off. I almost couldn’t reconcile that kind of consideration with the man who’d kidnapped me, although learning that he’d adopted Mercy when she didn’t have a home and seeing him feed Cricket gave me a glimpse of someone very different. He held me on his chest and didn’t even try to squeeze my ass, though his hands rested near my thighs. Cricket eventually jumped down and searched out somewhere else to sleep, and I could slide to the side on the couch, wedged between the back cushions and Evershaw’s side so I didn’t smother him.