by Michele Hauf
She studied him, and he swept out a hand and grabbed her by the wrist, slamming her against the brick wall and pinning her there with ease. He dragged his tongue from her jaw, up along her soft, smooth cheek and to her temple, where her pulse thumped and her salty sweetness tempted his taste buds.
“CJ, what are you—?” Ineffectual fists beat at his chest. “You’re not CJ. Let me go!”
“No, no, sweetie, you’re mine. I get to taste you now, because he spends far too much time thinking about how you’ll taste rather than indulging in you. Yes, you will be delicious.”
He dove to her neck and licked her vein. It pulsed hot and thick beneath his tongue. He could bite it, but unlike the vampire, he hadn’t fangs to pierce the skin. Stupid dark witch. So ineffectual. This body provided little advantage to the game.
Vika kicked, but her long, tight skirt wouldn’t allow her effective defense. Though her heel smashed the top of his boot, it hurt, yet only Pain quivered within—in joy.
“I like it when little girls struggle,” Lust growled. “Stirs your pheromones to a delicious soup of fear and anger. You, you little thing, have some aggression bottled up inside this gorgeous trapping. Let’s lick it out, yes?”
“Xum!”
A blast of something hit him in the chest, and he lost his grip on her and stumbled backward a few steps. What had that— Ah. Air magic. When he had control of the body, the dark witch’s defenses were not so strong, and any wards he’d put up or wore on his skin were ineffective. Lust slapped a palm to his chest and grinned at the red witch with the fiercely defiant expression. She did not wish to be trifled with; he didn’t care.
She pointed through the air, slightly above his head. “It’s here. The soul.”
What was she talking about?
“Hang on, CJ, I’m going to get rid of Lust for you.”
“You are foolish—”
The witch recited a Russian incantation, and with a gesture of her hand, directing some invisible energy toward him, a blast of brightness entered the dark host’s chest.
Lust clawed at the insides of the stupid witch who’d had the audacity to venture into Daemonia and steal. Lust would not be expelled without causing as much damage as he could to the thief. Clinging to the muscles, plasma and bone that fashioned the feeble witch, the demon fought against the dazzling corpse light moving through skin, sinew and the witch’s very heart. One intangible claw hung on, and then...
Brightness exploded upon him and pushed him out of the body. Unable to survive in the mortal realm without a host, and not having been summoned to this realm, Lust was immediately sucked to Daemonia.
Certainly fell to his knees, catching his palms on the tarmac. Sweat beaded his brow, and he gasped in exertion. He’d felt the soul enter through his chest and leave out his back. The lust demon had torn at his heart, unwilling to relent. His muscles felt shredded, damaged inside.
Barely aware of his surroundings, the brush of fabric dusted his arm. Vika moved about him. Looking for something. And then she declared, “I got it!”
He rocked to the side and sat, legs sprawling before him and arms falling forward to rest his hands on the ground. Exhausted from the expulsion, Certainly could but nod and manage a loopy grin.
“The demon is gone from you? Yes, I think so. I knew it was a demon when you pushed me against the wall. You’re not that kind of guy.”
He winced. Wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he strive to be some kind of guy?
“Your voice was different, too. Deeper, kind of raunchy.”
“Lust,” he gasped, and smirked regretfully. A demon had attempted to seduce the woman he was only just warming up to. “The demon wanted to do things with you. Things I...”
Wanted, but wasn’t sure how to ask for.
She kissed him on the cheek and pressed a finger to his lips. “I don’t need an explanation. All that matters is it worked. I expelled the demon from you and I managed to capture the werewolf’s soul again. I have it inside me. The soul bringer will get his due.”
She hugged him, and he pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled into her silken hair, losing himself in her eager excitement. She’d done it again, had now successfully defeated two of his demons. He couldn’t let this woman go. He had to keep her.
Because she made him feel light amid the weird absence of darkness.
His fingers curled about her hips possessively and he pressed his lips to the nail at the base of her neck while the demons inside him cackled.
“Let’s head to my place,” she said. “Reichardt usually senses when I’ve souls for him. He’ll be there, I’m sure.”
“Do I recall seeing a chandelier in your living room?”
She gave him a reassuring squeeze. “You did.”
* * *
The prismatic light from the elegant chandelier mastering the center of the St. Charleses’ living room was just enough to send the demons prodding at CJ’s edges cringing into the dark nooks and crannies pocking his soul. CJ relaxed and blew out a breath. Safe here. For now.
Alone while Vika had disappeared up the curving marble staircase, CJ watched as a black cat curled about his ankles, and he bent to scratch the critter behind the ears. The cat’s tail was interesting, striped with thin white bands, while the rest of its body was grayish-black.
“Oh, hello, Monsieur Jones.” The sister sallied into the room in a flirty white skirt and purple top. “I see you’ve met my sister’s ex-boyfriend.”
CJ straightened, the cat in his arms. “Her what?” Pausing midscratch, he turned the cat to study its intent gold gaze.
“This is Salamander,” Libby said, giving the cat’s tail a tug. “Vika’s ex.”
“Vika used to date a cat?”
Libby nodded negatively.
He held the thing out at arm’s length. The feline stared accusingly at him, flicking its tail angrily. Seriously? “A familiar?”
“Nope.”
Well, that only left— “You mean he was once human? Isn’t that kind of cruel?”
Libby laughed heartily. “Don’t worry. We don’t believe he remembers anything from his former life. It wasn’t Vika’s fault. Sal ran into a nasty warlock, and that’s what you get when you play with the big boys, isn’t it, you silly thing?” she said in baby talk to the cat.
The cat flicked its tail and would not look at Libby, showing her its disdain.
“Vika dated a man named Salamander?” CJ didn’t know what disturbed him more. The name, or to learn the cat used to be— No, he wouldn’t think about it.
“His name was Sal,” Libby explained. “But it felt weird to call him that, so Salamander it is.”
“Right. Because there’s nothing whatsoever weird about naming a cat Salamander.” He tried to hand the thing off to Libby, but it wrapped its tail around his wrist and clung like a...lizard.
Libby managed to snag the cat and sent it scampering. “So, you’re looking fine today, CJ. And not so desperate.”
“Thanks. I think. Not desperate, but tired. Your sister exorcised another of my demons.”
“Ah, so that’s why she’s beaming. Good for you. I bet it’s a real riot inside there, eh?” She tapped his chest. “But more important, did she find the soul?”
“She did, and it’s stuck to her soul right now.”
A man suddenly materialized in the living room near the kitchen door.
Libby clutched CJ’s hand. “He’s here. Vika, Reichardt is here! And for once I’m not holding the toilet plunger. Can life get any better? Hello, Monsieur Reichardt.” She shook her hand from Certainly’s and made a nervous little curtsy to the soul bringer. “My sister will be right down.”
The man, silent but seeing all, CJ suspected, gave him a nod and waited, hands calmly folded before him. He’d never met a soul bringer before, but he knew they were not conversationalists or social. They lived to ferry souls. Day and night, all hours of the day. Must be a boring life. Yet, being angelic in origin, they were some of the most powerful bei
ngs to tread this realm, and he respected the man’s silent strength.
Vika sailed down the stairway and greeted the man. “CJ, this is Reichardt, the soul bringer.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” CJ offered his hand, but the stoic soul bringer merely nodded as if a bored bouncer standing guard before a nightclub door.
The soul bringer looked to Vika. “Remove your clothing.”
“What?”
Vika cast CJ a sheepish glance. “It’s a requirement.”
“I don’t think so.” He stepped before her, putting himself between her and the soul bringer.
“Is there going to be a problem?” the soul bringer asked.
“No problem.” Libby tugged CJ away from her sister, and he only reluctantly followed. “You two go into the kitchen.”
“Yes, the kitchen.” Vika shook her head admonishingly at CJ and directed the soul bringer through the swinging kitchen doors. “You stay under the light,” she called back to CJ.
“Uh-huh. The light.” The French doors swung shut with a snap. CJ looked to Libby. “What the hell?”
“It’s routine,” Libby said, still holding his arm, as if she had enough strength to hold him off from storming the kitchen and making sure his woman did not strip for the brutish stranger.
His woman? Far from it. But wouldn’t he like to make that claim, and mean it? Not if she got naked for every man who passed through her front door, or her ether, as the situation was.
“Is that how it’s always done? She gets naked for him. Every time?”
“Well, she usually has on her bra and undies—which I’m sure she’s wearing today. Maybe. Rarely is she completely naked. Though there are occasions. It’s all cool. Reichardt is...” Libby sighed heavily. “Emotionless.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not copping a feel.”
“Oh, I think it does. He doesn’t actually touch her to scrub the souls. He uses a form of catoptromancy, but the mirrors he uses are his eyes. They go all silvery when he’s performing the scrub. I’m not sure he sees the nude body in the same manner a normal man would.” Again, another sigh. “I wouldn’t let it bother you. Trust me. It’ll only screw with your head.”
Less than five minutes later, Vika breezed through the kitchen doors, followed by Reichardt. Vika tugged at the neckline of her dress and flipped her hair over a shoulder. CJ eyed the soul bringer warily. He didn’t look overly satisfied to have just felt up his girlfriend.
She’s not your girlfriend!
Still.
“Libby,” the soul bringer said.
Libby perked.
“Have you another of those cookies?”
“Really? Yes!” With a delighted squeal, Libby headed toward the kitchen, grabbing Reichardt’s hand as she did and tugging him bodily through the swinging doorway.
Vika approached CJ with a smirk. “She’s a crush on the guy.”
“That explains the wistful sighs.”
“Sighs and fantasies that will never come true. Poor girl. Of all the paranormal breeds in this universe, she had to fall for the one completely lacking in emotion. I’m not sure his glass heart beats. How sad is that?”
“The sad part is, he just got to see you naked, and I did not.”
“I was wearing panties. And he doesn’t see me. He goes into some weird trance and I think he only sees the souls. He got the soul, by the way. I’m safe.”
“Safe, but still not naked,” CJ said teasingly. “Just panties? So he saw your...?”
“Is that all you men think about? Getting a woman naked?”
“It is a favorite thought, but not exclusive to the male brain. We also think a lot about food, entertainment—usually of the sporting kind—sex, cars, magic—in my case—sex, and yes, more naked women. Tell me you ladies don’t undress we men with your eyes?”
“Well.” She let her eyes travel down his chest, and CJ suddenly felt very naked. It was not an undesired feeling, either. “Yes, I suppose we do.”
She turned and walked off, turning to crook a finger at him. “Want me to show you my spells?”
Thinking he’d rather see her panties, CJ cast a look to the chandelier above. Out the window the sky had brightened, and the clouds had moved away. Safe, for now. He followed the witch into the spell room.
Chapter 7
Inviting CJ into her spell room was putting her trust out there as far as she dared. This room was personal to Libby and her. Most witches did not eagerly invite others to peruse their spell rooms, but she had snooped over CJ’s domain. This wasn’t so much an “I owe you a peek” offer, as an “I need to get to know you better” show of trust. And he had once already been inside, not at her invitation, so to now wrest control put her in a place of power.
Vika stood in the doorway, arms crossed and hip against the door frame, as Certainly strode about the room, studying the glass drawers for ingredients. She liked the contrast now of dark and light. Wherever CJ went he insinuated darkness. Not purposefully, but merely by being. His was a complicated darkness, woven with strands so twisted and complex Vika wondered if he could ever become untangled.
“Did you ever not want to practice dark magic?” she asked.
“No. My parents practiced the same.” He ran a long finger over the front of a glass door, behind which sat her mortars, one of which had been hand carved by her father in sandstone. “My brother and sister and I have never known anything different. Dark magic is not evil, Vika.”
“I know that.”
“But it’s not clean, either,” he added, turning and leaning against the counter, opposite the room from her.
His implication was loud and clear. She liked things clean. What was wrong with that?
“Have you a book of shadows?” he asked.
She nodded to the book open on the marble table that mastered the center of the room. “Been working on it since I could hold an ink pen and recite spells. Do you have a copy at the archives?”
“Probably. The Book of All Spells generates a page every time a witch creates a new spell. Dezideriel Merovech allows me access to the book frequently to keep things up-to-date.”
Dez was a nearly millennium-old witch who was married to vampire Ivan Drake, who served on the Council, along with his parents, Nikolaus and Raven. But they lived in the States, so CJ must travel to view the book.
“I’d love a peek inside that book,” Vika said.
“Even with all the dark magic lurking within its pages?”
“Even so. Curiosity doesn’t imply I have to practice it.”
“True. I do admire a curious heart.”
He placed his tattooed hand over his heart. The dark ink work blended against his black shirt. How painful to have endured the needle on what Vika guessed must be one of the most sensitive places on the human body.
“What are you working on at the moment?” he asked. “Anything I can help you with?”
Vika strolled to the spell table and tugged her book toward her. Normally she never shared her works in progress, but knowing CJ’s vast magical knowledge bolstered her eagerness to show him. And she wanted to share with him. It felt conducive to learning more about his life.
And anything that allowed them to converse closely appealed to her desire to have him near her.
“This is my latest interest.”
He slid onto the clear Lucite stool beside her and leaned over the book. Tugging a pair of foldable glasses from his shirt pocket, he put them on and read. That he wore glasses ratcheted up his sexiness level to a new degree. Smart men targeted Vika’s libido like chocolate and oysters did to some women. And though she knew glasses did not imply smartness, the look worked for her.
And his closeness stirred her senses to ultra-alert. He was so...there. Warmth rose from him in tangible waves. A solid entity she could not disregard. And he smelled like her herbarium, a wild mix of scents she could pick out, such as thyme, basil and bergamot, and then the scent would dissipate and allow another to rise, such as the dry swee
tness of cedar she’d noticed last night. He wore the world on his skin. And she wanted to explore that world.
“Fire and water fusion. I like it,” he said, tapping the page in her book with a finger. Taking off his glasses, he tucked them away. “Show me?”
“I’m still in practice mode, but I can do little tricks.” She pulled a beeswax candle set in a silver holder to her and, with a breath and the thought lumiere, brought the wick to flame.
“You’ve mastered fire?”
“No, all witches know that simple trick.”
He leaned his elbows on the counter, which rubbed his arm against hers, and Vika stood there a moment, staring at the candle flame, while her attention was focused on the intimate contact. Skin on skin would feel better. Cedar and bergamot permeating her flesh and warming her senses to a heady desire.
But she was getting ahead of herself.
Gliding her fingers above the flame, not touching, she recited the spell. “Earth, fire, bone, water.” With a tap of her finger to the flame, the red heat transformed to blue water and continued to flicker in flame shape.
“Nice,” CJ said.
“You can probably reduce an entire burning building to water,” she said, catching her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. “Am I right?”
He shrugged. He could, but he was nice enough not to say so after her small accomplishment.
“Draw it out,” he said with a nod to the watery flame.
“I haven’t gotten that far in my study yet.”
“It’s all in the hands and intention.” He took her hand and she spread her fingers wide, accepting the intense heat of their connection. CJ smoothed his palm across hers with the untattooed hand, indicating she should hold it flat before the flame. “Mirror the flame, and feel its movement in your palm.”
With a twist of her mouth, she concentrated on the watery flame, and the dazzle of undulating light within the clear surface. She could feel the movement against her palm. The water flickered softly, as if touched by a breeze.
“I feel it,” she whispered. “I think I can control it.”
CJ slid his hand down to her wrist, where the jade beads were wrapped, and touched her lightly there, not breaking contact. She sensed he bolstered her magic with his own, and in fact, her intent felt most strong at the base of her throat. Grandmother must approve, she thought suddenly.
