Long ago, a council of Other elders had been created to keep the paranormal peace. They’d made the mistake of thinking they could control the cazadores, too.
As far as Luis knew, no members of that illustrious council still lived.
Not that he was particularly concerned with what had become of them all. Once he’d learned that the majority of those assholes had ignored their own so-called peace rules and slaughtered humans—he’d stopped caring about their lives then.
And begun focusing more on their deaths. He’d hunted down several of the killers, despite their pretense of authority.
“The summoning spell brought you here.” A satisfied smile curved her lips and drew him from the past. “That was what I wanted and—”
“No, what you wanted was to live.” His words had her smile vanishing. “And I’ll do my damned best to see that you do.”
For a price. He didn’t say the words this time, because his witch already knew.
Before she could speak, there was a loud screech of sound, and something pounded against the windshield of her car.
Something small. Black. With claws.
Fuck.
He turned his head and glared out the windshield, meeting a pair of shining yellow eyes. “That damn well better not be your familiar.”
The sensual spell between them had shattered. Serena turned away, fumbled with the lock on the door. “He’s not,” she said. “Just a stray who wandered up a few days ago.” She climbed hurriedly from the car and didn’t bother glancing back at him.
His nostrils flared. The scent of her arousal carried easily to him. Like a shape-shifter, he had very advanced senses. Smell, taste, sight, sound, and touch—they were all substantially heightened for him.
He could smell the rich cream from his witch’s sex.
She wanted him.
Good. That would make things easier.
When he got out of the car, Serena stood waiting near her small porch, one delicate foot tapping, and the cat, a too-skinny, long-haired beast, had his tail wrapped around her legs.
She lifted her keys. “The poor thing looks like he’s starving. I’m going to let him inside and find some milk or something for him.”
The cat let out a satisfied purr.
Luis frowned.
His magic didn’t work with animals. He wasn’t a charmer and in all of his years, he’d never taken the soul of an animal-talker. Charmers generally weren’t on the lists of fatal badasses who needed to be put out of their misery. Since he’d never taken one’s power, that meant Luis couldn’t communicate with beasts, but…
But he felt a whisper of dark power hanging around the cat.
Serena opened her door and the cat ran in front of her, tail up, darting down the darkened hall as if he owned the place.
Serena stepped forward.
“Wait.”
Her curls bobbed as she glanced back at him and he could see the shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. His witch had been fighting a dark foe on her own for too many nights.
But not any longer.
“I don’t want you anywhere near that cat,” he said.
A surprised laugh burst from her lips. “You can’t be serious!”
But he was.
Brushing by her, and greedily inhaling her scent, he headed after the feline.
Behind him, Serena tapped a button, and the overhead lights flickered on.
The living room was to the left. Oversized couch. Cozy fireplace. Candles. Spell books.
And paint. Brushes. Easels. The heavy scent of the paint filled the air.
So his witch was an artist. Interesting. And, judging by the paintings that sat on the two easels, she was very, very good.
A castle filled one canvas. Heavy grays. Dark blues. A fortress under siege, battling the wind and rain and the night.
The second painting was of a woman. A portrait. A beauty with hair as black and curly as Serena’s, but with green eyes that shone with light and happiness.
He hadn’t seen happiness in his witch’s eyes.
The cat nosed around the easel positioned near the window. Brushed its fur against a brush that lay all but forgotten on the floor.
A personal item would be needed for the binding spell. Something Serena had touched. Something from her home.
He growled. The sound was a perfect match for a wolf, not a man.
The cat jerked his head up, arched his back and hissed.
Luis bared his teeth.
The furball took off, running straight toward him, and Luis was ready. He grabbed the beast by the scruff of his neck and lifted him high into the air.
Yellow eyes blazed at him.
“Uh, what are you doing to the cat?”
He didn’t answer Serena. All of his attention was on the beast.
Usually humans were the only ones who mistakenly thought animals were harmless.
A witch should have known better.
“Tell your master I’m coming for him,” Luis snarled, “and that he’d better start fucking running.”
The cat’s whiskers shivered. Then the feline twisted and fell from Luis’s hands. He landed on all fours with a soft whisper of sound. The front door was still open, and he ran toward it, hissing.
Luis didn’t bother chasing the animal. He had the creature’s scent. The cat wouldn’t get away from him.
Serena slammed the door shut, locked it. “I-I don’t understand. I didn’t sense evil from him—”
“He’s linked with a charmer, sweetheart.” Had to be. “The cat’s been visiting you, probably all the coven, and providing the charmer with the link he needed to know you.” A string, a piece of hair—the cat could have taken anything small back to his master. In order for a binding spell to work, a personal possession was needed. The cat had been a perfect thief.
She shook her head. “But charmers can’t bind witches. They don’t have that kind of power.”
On that note, she was dead right. “The guy’s not working alone.” It was the conclusion he’d reached as soon as he recognized the taint of power lingering around the cat. Which meant…“There’s not just one asshole out there trying to take down your coven.” No, not just one.
A smile lifted his lips. Ah, damn but he loved a challenge.
“We’ve got to go after them! Let’s go follow that cat and—”
“No.”
Her mouth tightened. “I thought you were helping me.”
“I am.” He strode toward her. “You’re dead on your feet. I’m getting you in bed.”
Her breath jerked. “You’re—no, you’re just trying to go off on your own—”
He shook his head and touched her cheek. Such soft skin. So smooth. “I’m not going to leave you.”
“I don’t trust you.”
Good. “You’re tired. If you’re going to hunt with me, you’ll need your strength.” It would take some time for her to recover from the summoning spell.
Her lips tilted. “Y-you’re going to let me hunt with you?”
He’d never let another accompany him, but in the past, he’d gone to seek vengeance. Not to stop the crime.
Since it was her life, it was the least Serena deserved.
So he nodded.
A relieved laugh burst from her lips, the sound high and sweet.
Nice.
“I thought you’d be pissed as hell at me for forcing you here, but you’re—”
“I am.” Pissed as hell. Yes, a fairly apt description.
The smile faded from her lips.
“Don’t forget who I am, not for a moment,” he told her. She needed the warning, and he wouldn’t give her another. “I agreed to help you, but I am most definitely pissed as hell at being yanked thousands of miles across the globe. You didn’t have my consent, witch, and I don’t take lightly to those who would seek to control me.”
I summoned you, that means I have some control over you.
Her words lay between them.
Her th
roat moved as she swallowed. “Can you—can you really kill with just a touch?”
His hand was on her cheek, because he wanted to keep stroking that flesh. Slowly, he trailed his fingers down the side of her face. Down the elegant column of her throat. His fingers wrapped around her neck. “Yes.” One simple touch.
But he didn’t have to give just pain and death. He could also give pleasure. He’d give that to her, when the time was right.
“Are you afraid of me, Serena?”
Her eyes held his. So steady. So deep. “No.”
Lie.
The one whispered word grated in his mind.
“Pity.” He meant it. His hand rose slowly, cupping her cheek, and his head lowered toward hers. Her lips were parted. “Do you want me to kiss you again, witch?”
“Yes.”
Truth.
His mouth took hers. Claimed it. Tasted the sweetness on her tongue and greedily took everything that her tender mouth had to offer.
He’d have her naked soon. Beneath him in bed. Taking him deep inside of her.
Her body was supple against his. Her thighs shifted and he fought to control the impulse demanding that he reach down and search out all her secrets.
Such tempting female flesh. Waiting for him.
He wanted her breasts. In his mouth.
His tongue brushed over hers. Thrust into her mouth.
So good.
Her hands seemed to scorch his flesh. Even through the thin fabric of his shirt, he could feel the heat of her touch.
If only they were naked, he’d feel her, everywhere.
Not now.
Dammit.
Luis forced his head to lift. Serena’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling, her lips red and swollen from his mouth.
“You want me.” Luis said the words because he wanted no pretense between them. When he was between her thighs, thrusting as hard and deep as he could, he didn’t want her pretending the sex was just some sort of sacrifice for the safety of her coven.
The price for the coven’s protection would be met later.
The sex—that was just between them. A need he hadn’t expected, certainly never imagined that he would feel for a witch who’d tried to control him.
He could smell her arousal, the lush perfume of woman filling his nostrils and making his cock twitch.
He waited for her denial. None came.
The witch wasn’t going to give him the speech about how she was a good girl, one who didn’t sleep with strangers.
Because good girls didn’t use dark magic.
“That’s what you want from me, then? My body?” Still so calm. Too calm.
“I’m gonna be taking a lot more than just your sexy flesh, Serena.” She’d learn what he wanted, soon enough. “Besides, don’t you want my body?” If there was anything he’d learned about witches, it was that they were sensual creatures. It was partly due to the magic that constantly streamed through their bodies. All of that glorious, rich power.
Sex was necessary for witches. Not as necessary as it was for sex demons, but witches mated often.
With Serena’s power running low, she’d need the brief boost she’d get from a hard climax of pleasure.
And the thing about witches…they had a reputation for always leaving their lovers well satisfied.
The succubi usually only cared about their own pleasure.
Not so for a witch.
“You know I want you.” Her words came slowly.
Truth.
“I shouldn’t,” she said, and her breath feathered over his face. “It’s the wrong damn time and you’re sure as hell the wrong man.”
His brows shot up.
“If I wanted to play with a devil, there are any number of demons I could find in this town for a fix.”
A growl worked in his throat. He didn’t want to think of the witch with another. Not when he hadn’t even come close to possessing her yet.
“No other,” he ordered, and meant it. The lust between them was unexpected as hell, but Luis had never been the sharing type. He’d have Serena, and no being—human or Other—would touch her while he was near.
“And no other for you,” she said, her words holding the same edge of possession that his had.
“Agreed.” The response was instantaneous. He wanted no other.
His right hand still held her chin. He squeezed gently then slid his hand down and let his fingers curve around her neck once more. Beneath his touch, he felt her pulse beating far too fast.
Serena’s hunger matched his, but her strength didn’t.
Not now.
“I won’t hunt without you,” he told her again. Then, “Don’t be afraid…”
Her eyes widened. “What? Why are you—”
“I’ll be here when you wake.”
Understanding dawned too late in her gaze.
Exhaling slowly, he blew a stream of magic right at her.
She sagged against him, her body limp as sleep claimed her. He pulled her close.
And thought about the magnificent twists of fate.
And how very, very easy it was to kill a witch.
After all, his mother had burned so quickly…
“Anubis.”
The black cat hissed and arched his back as Julian Kathers crouched before him. Julian listened intently, a frown forming along his brow, then, “Dammit.”
The warlock who sat on the other side of the room arched a brow. “Trouble, charmer?”
Julian stroked the cat’s back, trying his best to calm Anubis. The cat was shaking, scared to death.
With damn good reason. “A soul-hunter’s in town.”
For the first time in the fifteen years that Julian had known the warlock, fear flickered over Michael Deveaux’s face. “Bullshit.”
Anubis hissed again.
“He’s with one of the witches.” Fucking bad news. The witches—they were easy enough to pick off one at a time, after they’d been bound, anyway. And he sure did enjoy the sight of a witch bitch burning, but—
But the cazadores were a different game.
He’d never gone up against one of them. Didn’t have the power to face one.
Did the warlock? Julian’s heart pumped fast at the thought. Maybe. Maybe. A wild laugh sprang to his lips, but he bit it back.
I’d love to see a cazador die.
Maybe the bastard would beg. Plead. He loved it when prey pleaded.
Made the death so much sweeter.
Fuck, but he should have been born stronger! Not as a damn worthless charmer who could only talk to strays. Those fucking witch bitches in his old neighborhood had taunted him, using their magic to make every day of his life so damn miserable, one spell after another.
But he’d shown them. He’d shown them all.
A witch’s screams were so sweet, and the flesh of a witch smelled so very good when it burned.
The laugh he couldn’t hold back any longer broke from his lips.
The warlock had swiped a hell of a lot of energy from the witches over the years. Yes, maybe he could do it—
Another laugh. The cat shook beneath his petting hand.
The warlock rose, the light of a nearby lamp reflecting for a moment in his golden hair. “The hunter saw the cat?” His voice was calm, even.
No fear—of course not. Because he knew that he could take the cazador bastard.
Excitement had Julian’s heart drumming even faster.
Anubis arched his back again and his whiskers twitched.
“The hunter was with the witch—the black-haired one, Serena—at her house. He followed the cat inside.”
Anubis meowed. A high, plaintive sound.
“What did the damn feline just say?” The warlock demanded, voice snapping as he stalked toward them.
“The cazador—he said he’d be coming.” And that I’d better start fucking running.
But Julian hadn’t run from anyone, not since he was sixteen and those witch bitches at his
school had thought it would be funny to chase him after class with one of the stone gargoyles that should have forever stayed resting on the roof of the old building next to his high school.
They’d known he was Other, so they’d felt confident in playing with him. The bitches never would have worked tricks like that on humans.
For the longest time, he’d heard their laughter when he closed his eyes at night.
Then, after he’d hooked up with the warlock, he’d been able to hear only their screams.
“He’ll have the cat’s scent.” The momentary heat that had flared in the man’s voice was gone. He walked around Julian, keeping a careful distance from Anubis.
The warlock had never liked his cat, Julian knew that.
But he’d sure used Anubis every chance he got.
Such a perfect pet. So good at sneaking into the homes of witches.
Witches always had a soft spot for black cats.
Fools.
“We can be ready for him,” Julian said, confidence and the thrill of the kill filling him. “Let the hunter come, we’ll gut him and—”
Snap. Julian’s words ended. His hand stopped stroking the cat.
Anubis jerked back, tiny teeth bared.
Slowly, the warlock lifted his hands from Julian’s neck.
So easy to kill charmers, Michael thought. Almost as easy as killing humans.
The best part? He hadn’t even needed to waste a drop of his magic.
“One problem down,” he muttered, and smiled at the cat. The soul-hunter could trace the cat’s scent all he liked now—he’d just find death waiting for him.
Lifting his hand, he motioned for the cat. “Here, little kitty…come to me…so I can send you to hell with your master…”
The cat turned and ran, jumping up onto the window ledge and then diving into the night.
Michael laughed.
The cat had been smarter than the charmer.
Not really surprising.
So, the witch, Serena, had summoned a soul-hunter. Interesting.
Resourceful.
Usually the witches just ran and hid when the first binding mark appeared on their flesh.
Hmm. The witch had to be strong. Most couldn’t use a summoning spell even at full power, much less initially bound.
Good. It had been far too long since he’d taken a strong witch’s magic.
Everlasting Bad Boys Page 18
