Aerin’s torso jerked upward at a ninety-degree angle to her legs, and for one horrifying moment, Moira prepared herself for a projectile stream of something like pea soup. Her sister’s gasp sounded exactly like the first breath a drowning man draws after horking up a chestful of water.
“Aerin!” Moira had to stop her hand from bestowing a mighty clap on the back, settling instead for rubbing a circle between her shoulder blades. Another couple ragged breaths, and she seemed to recover the art of working her own lungs.
“Lucy,” she croaked. “She—I didn’t—I couldn’t—”
“We know, darlin’. We know all about it. She’s gone now. She can’t hurt you no more.”
“How do we know?” It was Claire who posed the question, though it had already been scooting around the channels and locks of Moira’s mind. “That’s just the sort of thing Lucy would say to make us believe that she’d been evicted.”
Fortunately, Moira already had a surefire test in mind.
“Come on in, Julian.” Maybe it had been their tag-teaming the witch hunters via bio warfare. Maybe it had been the split-second she’d thought she felt a plague of stiffy invading Pestilence’s trousers while they were dry-humping—a nice gesture on his part. And a hell of a part it was, she couldn’t help but notice.
Whatever the reason, Moira sensed a tenuous connection where there hadn’t been before. One defined not by lust or romantic attachment, but a deep, mutual admiration and understanding.
A friend.
Moira had a friend.
A highly infectious friend who she could feel hovering outside the door.
Julian had recovered his shirt, if not all of the polish and poise he usually operated with. He stood in the doorway, Nick and Dru looming behind him like sentinels from another time.
Which, Moira supposed, they were.
Aerin rose to her feet, denuded of their expensive heels by virtue of Lucy’s struggle toward the end of her residency.
They approached each other slowly, carefully, the remaining distance between them finally broached by Julian’s outstretched hand.
Aerin regarded it for a moment with the suspicion of a wild animal approaching an offered treat.
“You have nothing to fear, Aerin de Moray,” Julian promised. “Not anymore.”
With the measured progress of growing grass or shifting tides, Aerin slid her palm into Julian’s, letting out a little cry when he crushed her into his embrace.
“It’s you,” he breathed into the top of her head. “It’s really you.”
Moira’s exhale felt like it might never end.
“Don’t get too excited,” Aerin mumbled into Julian’s shirt. “It may be months before I can recover my lady boner after seeing you in shit-kickers and hillbilly haute couture.”
“Perfectly understandable, of course.” Julian pressed his lips to her hand, then turned it palm-up to kiss her wrist.
“At least a week,” Aerin amended, settling for days, then hours by the time he kissed her ear, and everyone quietly excused themselves from the room.
“I need a drink.” Dru shuffled toward the stairs.
“Or seven,” Claire added, trailing him at a healthy distance.
Moira and Nick waited to hear their footsteps upon the wooden stairs, their silence a contract whose terms they had both understood and accepted long ago.
Then they fell on each other, ravenous.
They worked down the corridor with the stumbling graceless lurching of a creature newly born. Shoving up against walls to maintain their balance rather than turn loose of each other’s bodies. Hands diving beneath each other’s clothing, mouths fused, tongues spelling unspeakable intentions.
At last, Nick took responsibility for their progress by lifting Moira off her feet, scissoring her legs around his waist so he could carry her the last few yards to his room.
And then they were falling backward onto the bed, the remaining layers between them peeled away in the work of seconds.
Nick stilled inside her.
For an absurd moment, Moira thought the force of their passion had pricked Nick’s eyes with pinpoints of blood-red and cast a crimson pall of lust across his languid features.
But his gaze remained fixed on the window. Frozen. Hypnotized for reasons that had nothing to do with their joining.
She looked, too.
The Puget Sound was a landscape painted in blood.
All of it hemorrhaged from the great scarlet wound of the swollen moon dipping low above the waves.
“And the moon became as blood.” Nick’s lips moved in a kind of dreamy recitation. He stared down at her then, his eyes clinging to rubies within their depths. “The sixth Seal has been opened.”
Claire
by
Cindy Stark
Chapter One
That was the most reckless thing she had ever done, and she would pay for it.
Claire de Moray peeled her leather jacket from her shoulders as she fled down the hallway in Manresa Castle, away from the scene of Lucifer’s defeat and away from Aerin’s and Julian’s tender reunion.
But mostly away from Drustan Geddes.
War.
Second Horseman of the Apocalypse, and the man who stirred the smoldering embers inside her with just a look, making her burn with need.
Moira had insisted it was a good plan, and it wasn’t like Claire had been completely alone with Dru. But thirty minutes sharing a small closet with the virile Horseman, listening to Moira and Julian pretend to make love in order to lure Lucifer into a trap, had used up every bit of reserve she had to resist him.
Sacrifice, she reminded herself. It was all about the sacrifice to exorcise Lucy from Aerin’s body and save the entire world from total destruction. No biggie. Certainly nothing a stiff drink and ice bath couldn’t cure, right?
Goddess knew, after the past few weeks, working in close proximity with the Horsemen in an effort to rescue her sister, Claire’s reserves had already been lagging like a tired horse. With her sense of sight diminished in the darkened closet, other senses had dominated.
Dru’s seductive scent of gunpowder and leather had teased her. She could practically taste the licorice on his lips, reminding her of the first time he’d seduced her. The illusion of them together had been incredible. Just one touch, her body had begged. As it was, she had trouble sleeping, remembering his fingers caressing her skin and the whisper of his voice in her ear…although that could actually be him sneaking into her thoughts, the bastard.
How would she ever forget him if she couldn’t get him out of her head or her heart?
Should she bother to try?
She had succeeded in hog-tying her urges and keeping her hands to herself, but by the time she and Dru had exploded from the tiny enclosure to battle the Devil and evict her from Aerin, Claire’s resolve had weakened and left her thirsting dearly for something she shouldn’t want.
Hence her hasty escape.
“Claire.”
Dru growled her name from behind, ensnaring her in his powerful trap. She stopped and glanced over her shoulder. His massive form filled the narrow hallway as he stalked toward her like a predator narrowing in on his prey. An olive-green cotton tee clung to his broad chest, emphasizing chiseled muscles honed from years of wielding a mighty sword, the same weapon that had permanently left open a portal for him to communicate with her heart.
If she had only known the hidden options that came along with his stolen sword.
As Dru approached, unwelcome excitement and fearful nerves burst over her like summertime fireworks. If she’d thought she could escape him, she would have run. As it was, she feared this slayer would hunt her until the end of days.
Which, in reality, might not be that long if they kept opening the Seven Seals of the Apocalypse like they were endless birthday presents.
Before Dru could reach her, fear won out, and she turned and hurried for the stairwell. Not one to be cowardly, she hated that she caved to he
r baser fears. She feared nothing. Not death for it would end the planet’s curse and save her family. Not pain. She’d experienced enough of that in her lifetime to know it couldn’t last forever.
But she feared War.
Not because he would hurt her. But because he might try to love her.
She never reached the first step. Strong fingers encircled her arm, stopping her as effectively as if he’d knocked her flat.
She whirled around, prepared to deliver another venomous criticism that might continue to keep Dru at bay. Words seemed to be her only protection against the powerful warrior. He had sporadic access to her thoughts, but her words seemed to make him doubt.
Something in his eyes stopped her. “We need to talk.”
No. Allowing him near her would cost her the battle. He expected a civilized conversation, and that would undo her. The connection wrought by forces far older and more powerful than her already allowed him too much insight into her thoughts.
“I need a drink,” she said instead of addressing his statement. The fierce encounter with Lucy had drawn far more from her than expected for such a simple spell.
“I’m buying,” Dru responded, not realizing her excursion into the lounge was an excuse to leave him. He slid his hand down her arm and entwined their fingers as they descended the stairs.
At the bottom, she stopped, fueled by frustration, and faced him. With a quick jerk, she broke his grip on her. “I don’t need you to hold my hand or buy me a drink. In fact, I don’t need or want anything from a man like you. Just because my sisters have lost their ever-loving minds and hooked up with your brothers, doesn’t mean I will. Got it?”
The momentary silence sucked the air from the room like an atomic bomb.
Dru personified the image of an epic warrior. Proud and arrogant. Massive chest and thighs. Arms that could crush boulders. No doubt many had paid homage to the gloriously built machine of a man born only to fight legions of battles upon which many had sacrificed their lives in the name of God and honor. She would not follow in their foolish footsteps.
He narrowed his gaze. “Don’t lie. The closet damn near incinerated trying to contain what’s between us.” The timbre of his words vibrated her very existence.
Exploring what had blossomed like a fireball between them would never happen. First, she owed her loyalty to Tommy. He might only be a shell of his previous self, but she was the one who had taken his life, and she couldn’t destroy him again.
“Fuck Tommy,” War growled in a low voice.
She jerked in response to him invading her thoughts. “Stop that,” she hissed, mentally burning any emotional ties she could locate. The more time she spent near him, the more intertwined they seemed to become.
“I’ve noticed it, too.” His eyes glittered with triumph.
“No.” She shook her head. “You can’t read every thought I have.” Their connections had been scattered at best until recently, sometimes feeling as though he was in the same house, other times only a distant echo.
“I can read you right now.” He moved a step closer, forcing her to retreat, which only served to press her back against the gold-papered walls. “It seems the close proximity in Julian’s room has allowed me full access to your every thought and emotion.”
“Let me go.” She shoved her palms against his chest, but he didn’t budge.
“Don’t be afraid, Claire.”
Panic and vulnerability clashed inside her, and she desperately tried to shut down her thoughts.
Tenderness on the warrior’s face nearly undid her. “You can trust me.”
“No, I can’t. I don’t want to. I want you out of my head and out of my heart—”
His eyes smoldered in victory, drawing her fears to the very topic she wished to hide from him. If she let Dru in, she’d damage him with her love like she’d done with Tommy. Destroying Dru would kill her.
“You can’t hurt me.” He lifted a hand to her cheek. “There’s nothing physical you can do that I can’t recover from. I’ve been alive for thousands of years, Claire, waiting for you, waiting for this moment in my life. I’ve kissed you once, and it wasn’t nearly enough.”
“A kiss is one thing.” Her thoughts spun as she tried to comprehend. “I share a power that’s strong enough to end this world. How do you know I can’t hurt you?”
“Doesn’t matter either way. If I’m going to go, then I’ll die knowing what it’s like to be inside you first.”
His words forged a shiver inside her that wouldn’t stop.
He wrapped a powerful arm around her and tugged her hard against him, the impact stealing her breath. The moment their bodies touched, hers molded to his as though two parts of a long-lost artifact had been brought together. His midnight gaze bored into her, daring her to argue further. “We’ve been apart for too long.”
He gave her a fraction of a second to protest, but her words had deserted her like the most cowardly traitors.
With his free hand, he anchored her face between his fingers and lowered his lips to hers.
Wild sparks flew left and right like a fierce clash of swords. Formidable energy surged through her veins and branched out in every direction like lightning searching for earth until each cell inside her burned with a power that could consume the masses. Dru’s touch resurrected the traces of his influence that had lingered in her blood since she’d possessed his sword, sleeping soldiers awakening to battle for their master’s great cause.
Her focus narrowed to the feel of his delicious, commanding mouth on hers, to the softness of his lips and the power that pulsed beneath. Each kiss, each slide of his tongue against hers seared into her memory with stunning clarity. She gripped his shirt as her heartbeat fell into line with his, the synchronicity sweeter than anything she knew.
Goddess help her.
When Claire melted against him, defeated in her battle against desire, Dru broke the kiss. Fierce intensity flooded her with a lucidity she’d never experienced. Much like a high on an as-yet undiscovered super drug.
She expected him to revel in his victory, but he seemed as surprised as she did by the force of their bond. A low growl rumbled in his throat, and hot testosterone pulsed in the air around him. “Don’t deny this, Claire. Don’t deny me. I can see the desire burning in your eyes.”
She blinked rapidly in an attempt to erase what he might have seen.
“Come back to my room with me, or we’ll continue this right here.” He delivered his ultimatum with a confidence born from years of triumphs.
If she faltered, she would not only break her vow to Tommy, she’d likely lose herself as well. She gulped in breaths of air as she twisted from his grip. “You might weaken me with a kiss, but you’ll never completely conquer me.” Instead of heading toward the stairs like he would have expected after his command, she strode toward the lounge.
Inside, she was surprised to find the young butler, who had welcomed her into the house the first time she’d visited, tending bar. A handful of the groundskeepers and hotel staff ate their dinner at the cozy tables. Manresa was certainly large enough to house the Horsemen and many others if they so chose, but she was surprised any had decided to stick around with the big, bad men of the Apocalypse storming about the castle.
Then again, where did one go when his hometown collapsed around him? And she knew the Horsemen would pay well to keep the place in working order and indulge in their creature comforts. After all the years walking the earth, luxury was theirs for the asking if they wanted it.
Claire claimed a barstool covered in the softest red velvet, anchored her elbows on the well-worn bar, and willed her ragged breaths to return to normal. “Fireball whiskey,” she called to the butler when he glanced her way.
A tingling awareness crept across the back of her neck like a lover’s seductive kiss. Dru…. Always the same signature sensation when he was near.
She steeled her spine and focused on the numerous bottles sheltered behind the bar, not willing to giv
e him the gratification of knowing how he affected her.
A satisfied chuckle echoed from somewhere behind her. The seductive consciousness moved from her neck to caress her shoulders. Goddess-dammit. Finding a spell to block him from her thoughts would be the first thing she did in the morning.
No, you won’t…. His thoughts invaded her mind.
Her eyelids fluttered closed as delicious unseen fingers massaged tension from her body. It’s not real, she reminded herself. Dru’s capacity to make it seem as though he touched her had fooled her in the past, but now that she carried a piece of him inside her, she could distinguish the difference between a lovely illusion and the incredibly powerful seduction of the man in the flesh.
It’s real. Let me show you how real.
She stiffened when his imaginary touch moved to her breasts, cupping her. Strong thumbs crested her hardened nipples. She gripped the bar and gasped at the delicious sensations.
“Ma’am?”
Claire flicked her eyes open and found herself staring into the young red-headed butler’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry. What?”
He dropped his gaze to her breasts as he placed her drink on the bar. Lust lurked in the shadows of his expression. “You were….” He cleared his throat. “If you need some company, I could help you with…”
“The lady doesn’t need help from anyone but me.” Dru’s threatening reply came from somewhere beyond her shoulder, sending the butler stumbling backward.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean…please forgive me.”
Dru didn’t respond, but Claire could well imagine the look he fired at the innocent man.
“I’ll just…” He quickly retreated to the other end of the bar where he wiped down the gleaming wood in front of him, constantly flicking nervous looks in her direction. A Middle-Eastern man dressed in a traditional brown and gray Moroccan djellaba came up next to him. The older man with a bushy salt-and-pepper moustache whispered something in his ear as though counseling him.
Which Witch is Wild? (The Witches of Port Townsend Book 3) Page 24
