Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to center himself. This odd burst of desire racing through his veins was an unneeded complication. When he opened them, any scrap of tranquility he’d managed deserted him again.
Thoroughly distracted, he hadn’t heard Julia move. Now sitting on the bed, her injured leg stretched out and her jeans pulled up, showing off her shapely calf. She probed her ankle, testing for tenderness. He clenched his hand as he remembered how smooth her skin felt under his fingers, how tempted he’d been to stroke her leg.
Briskly, he turned his back on her, wondering how in the nine hells he was going to spend time alone with her without going stir crazy. It’s been less than 24 hours and he’d already had more than a few dirty thoughts regarding her. He needed to bury himself in paperwork. That should help suppress his attraction to her. If he was lucky, she had some annoying habits, like talking constantly about nail polish or chewing her hair.
Rummaging through the duffel bag, he grabbed a shirt and yanked it on over his head. Clearing his throat, his back to her and his voice gruff, he said, “I’m going to look over some of the files I have here. Maybe you could too. A fresh set of eyes might see something I’m missing.”
He heard her rustling behind him and turned. She’d moved to the small table near the bed and sat down in one of the chairs. Thankfully, she had covered up although his libido didn’t seem to care. Damn, she needed to have extremely annoying habits.
“Sure. I’m itching to see everything you have.” Her lips curved into a smile and he reminded himself she was talking about the notes and nothing sexual.
What a shame.
He grabbed the laptop and sat it on the small kitchen table then gave himself a mental kick. All of it was on his computer, thus creating a distinct lack of actual paperwork. He hadn’t bothered printing anything out since he’d been the only one looking at the files. Hell, he didn't even have a printer. No way was he carrying one around along with everything else, which meant crowding around the computer in close proximity to her.
Jackson softly sighed and knew he needed to man up and get over it. She didn’t ask for his interest and he wasn’t going to burden her with it. Even if it killed him, he would act like a perfect gentleman. Bad enough he’d kidnapped her and was holding her against her will.
“Oh, actually, do you have a spare toothbrush? This morning breath is driving me crazy and if we’re going to share the computer, I don’t want to inflict it upon you.” She gave a small chagrined smile, peeking through stands of hair that had fallen across her face.
“In the bathroom. Should be one still in its package. I grabbed a few to stock up since you never know when you might lose your toothbrush. Or, you know, abduct someone.” He watched as she walked, or more accurately hobbled, to the bathroom. He shook his head and realized he had it bad for her. Morning breath, he hadn't even noticed.
If Markus was baiting him, he’d chosen wisely.
As she hobbled away, he wondered if she’d caused more damage to it during the workout. While the moves weren’t overly strenuous, they did require balance and for her full weight placed on one foot or the other. Perhaps he’d have to cast another heal on her. He tried to ignore the thrill of desire that thought gave him.
Turning back to the computer, he brought up several files she’d be interested in. The main file contained several crimes committed by demons, covered up and ignored. Initially he’d investigated these crimes only to have his findings buried, destroyed by unknown people. When he started digging into that mess, everything blew up in his face and he went on the run.
A surprised screech came from the bathroom as he opened pictures for her to browse through. Worried she’d fallen and hurt herself, he burst in without knocking and exclaimed, “What’s wrong? Why did you scream?”
Flattened against the left wall, Julia was as far away from the tub as possible. Still standing, she didn’t appear in pain. A half-opened toothbrush hung haphazardly on the edge of the sink.
An embarrassed cough of laughter as she shielded away from looking at him. “Well, it’s silly, but there’s a bee.”
“A bee? You shrieked and nearly gave me a heart attack cause of a bee?” Jackson stared in disbelief. She’d taken on a troll without flinching. A bee was nothing in comparison. Where was his brave, bold warrior?
“It wasn’t a shriek. More of a battle cry.”
“A battle cry?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Well, it’s better than Victor’s. He likes to yell ‘Avenge my death!’ every time we corner a demon.”
“No he doesn’t.” Julia covered her mouth, trying to hide her giggle. “Does he really? Does he expect to die?”
“Nope. Says it confuses the demon. Thinks he’s an incompetent mage and then they’re easier to capture. I don't know if it makes a difference though. Never tried to banish one without Victor next to me.”
A soft humming drifted past his ear. Turning his head, he watched the fat bumblebee whirl in lazy circles searching for nectar.
“This little guy scared you? He’s harmless.” He reached out letting the bee rest upon his bare forearm. “Bet he’s hungry.”
“Well you’re not feeding me to him; I’m not sweet enough. Now please, get that thing out of here.”
He laughed a little and brought his other hand up, placating her. “Okay, okay. I’ll get rid of it for you.”
“Alright, good. Just don’t kill it.” She shimmied closer to the door. With deliberate care, she walked backwards towards the door, a sharp eye on the bee the whole time, suspicious of its intent. Did she expect it to attack her from across the room?
“What?” He shot her a disbelieving look, wondering if he misheard her. Killing the bee hadn’t crossed his mind. However, she wanted it saved? He hadn’t expected her to care one way or the other.
“Well, it can’t help me being allergic to it. Shoo it out the window or something.”
“You want me to shoo it out the window? Wait, you’re afraid of a bee cause you’re allergic? That doesn’t make sense. Heal yourself if it stings you.”
“They also die after stinging. I don’t want to be the cause of their death. Now, hop to it, before it tries to attack again.” She clapped her hands twice, trying to speed him up.
A tiny sigh escaped him. Better to humour her.
Moving towards the window, he brushed past Julia. The bee fluttered its wings, lifting its fuzzy body before settling again on his arm.
A small screech escaped Julia and she bolted from the bathroom.
“Let me know when it’s gone!” She yelled from the other room.
He chuckled, amazed a tiny, harmless creature scared a woman who battled trolls and stared down a Fae.
He had to admit, he felt like a hero, rescuing her from danger.
And, being a man faced with a woman’s irrational fear, he did what any self-respecting man would do - think of ways to tease her mercilessly about it. A wide grin split his face as he swaggered from the bathroom to join his damsel in distress.
He could get used to her as a roommate.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, Julia stood and worked the kinks out of her body. Her muscles protested the inactivity, unused to sitting still for long periods of time. An hour into reading the files, she’d given up all thought of escape. No way was she losing the chance to crack this mystery.
While still not convinced of his innocence, the information he’d gathered fascinated her. Crimes covered up, demons used as lackeys and so much political intrigue her brain hummed with enthusiasm. Why, some of this appeared to be un-redacted files directly from the Coterie. How he gained access to them, she could only guess.
Markus would be so jealous she was studying this material and not him. He loved complex mysteries.
This whole situation smacked of a frame job. Too much didn’t add up correctly. Several crime scenes showed demon activity, but then ruled as human actions. Once it had that label, the Coterie and Enforcers pretended it didn’t exist. With humans outnumb
ering the preternatural world, they required police that dealt with solely human on human crimes. Unequipped to properly investigate supernatural activity, the police floundered. These crimes became cold cases and never solved.
While trusting Jackson seemed inadvisable, what with him labeled as dangerous and to approach with backup, she knew better than to blindly trust her superiors. She lived her life in constant fear she’d be executed on the spot for being a vile, horrible creature bent on destroying all mages due to a genetic anomaly. She was living proof the “facts” didn’t paint the full picture.
As for Jackson, he made no moves against her, in fact, he’d been downright impersonal. Only when she asked him questions did he come alive, expounding upon this detail or that. Otherwise he ignored her, acted like she wasn’t even there. Someone with murder or other nasty thoughts wouldn’t go out of their way to avoid even touching their intended victim, right?
Earlier, she’d opened her inner sight, surreptitiously examining him. Sadly, she wasn’t one of the rare mages who could hear thoughts. Instead she had to rely on his inner core and see if evil was at the forefront. It wasn’t a foolproof test as many things could feature into a person’s capacity for malevolence. Intentions and premeditated plans as well as enjoyment for suffering factored in heavily. A serial killer who lived for the kill would be predominately evil and twisted. A solider fighting for the greater good and willing to sacrifice himself wouldn’t.
Her stomach growled, reminding her with all the excitement she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Wait, that was wrong. It would’ve been the previous night, before Markus rudely woke her up for this insane adventure.
“So, impolite as this is, though not as impolite as kidnapping me, do you have any food? I’m starving.” Glancing over at Jackson, she caught a peculiar look on his face, one she couldn’t read. Perhaps he felt guilty about this situation. Either way, she was getting food whether he liked it or not. She was now his responsibility.
“Yeah, the cupboards and fridge are somewhat stocked. I didn’t grab a ton of food since I wasn’t expecting to have company. I’ll do a grocery order online and have it delivered." He paused and made a face. "I don’t want to take the chance of leaving this room so soon after Markus finding me.”
When he went to stand up, Julia waved him back down. Her foot wasn’t bothering her. A tiny twinge of pain and nothing more. Resting and elevating it for the past little while had helped, along with Jackson’s previous healing. “Please, stay put. I enjoy cooking and I find it relaxing. I’m assuming you grabbed stuff you like, so whatever I make should be fine with you?”
“Of course. If it’s not too much trouble... I mean with your foot and all. I don’t want you to cause any more damage to it.” He seemed genuinely bothered and she tramped down on the snappy reply that bubbled to the surface. Her pain wasn’t completely his fault and, after scouring through the evidence he’d gathered, she was oddly glad she’d sprained her ankle. If she hadn’t, she would’ve escaped by now, missing the opportunity of her career.
“Actually, another healing on my ankle would be great.” A part of her balked at asking him for a favour. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough concentration to cast a healing while also forcing her resistance to drop. If he thought it odd she wanted him to do it, he didn’t say. Instead he gave her a half-smile and gestured to the bed.
“Make yourself comfortable and let me know when you’re ready.” His attention wandered back to the computer. Settling on the bed, she hiked up her pant leg.
“I’m ready.” A steady breath, bracing herself.
Approaching the foot of the bed, he knelt and laid his hands on her ankle, soft and gentle. Eyes closed, she tried shutting out his touch and focused on lowering her resistance. She pictured the brick wall surrounding her, protecting her, but also hindering beneficial spells. Brick by brick, she removed it, exposing herself to the healing. Energy washed over her. The tingle in her ankle worked its way up her body and engulfed her with warmth. Opening her eyes, she smiled, riding the wave of pure bliss.
The heat in his eyes confused her and her smile faltered. Unsure of what to say, she murmured, “Thank you. It feels better now.”
He let go of her ankle, almost reluctant, his fingers lingering before he made his way back to the table. Her skin tingled where he touched.
Due to the magic, she told herself, and not because she yearned for more.
His back to her, Jackson dived into his notes, dismissing her. A little peeved he could ignore her without a single glance her way, she adjusted her pant leg, covering up her calf. The temptation to smack him with an itching spell snuck into her mind. She decided such a spell was childish and beneath her (damn it!) and dissipated the magic twisting inside her.
Head held high, ignoring the gorgeous jackass, she strode to the kitchen.
As she rummaged through the cupboards and fridge, French toast won the food battle. Easy, filling and tasty with a bit of cinnamon. Oh, of course he didn’t have cinnamon. Fine, easy and filling then.
A huff of irritation escaped as she glared at her new nemesis. The mixing bowls on the upper shelf taunted her. Why did he put them up so high? Plenty of empty shelves closer to ground level.
Nosing around, she found no step stool and hopping up on the counter with a sore ankle didn’t appeal to her. Getting up would be a breeze. Getting down worried her. Landing with all her weight on her ankle would set back the progress she’d made.
“Uh, Jackson. I need some help in here, please.” She gritted out, striving hard for pleasantness. She failed.
Forced to rely on someone else galled her. Either she asked for help or hurt herself due to pride. Both choices sucked.
Several themes kept recurring in her life as of late and she didn’t like them one bit.
He sauntered into the tiny kitchenette. Even in her irritation, she appreciated his fluid motion, the lethal predator lurking under his civilized veneer. A man confident in his abilities, willing to tangle with rogue demons when most mages shied away from them. Only the strongest mages, mentally and in magic, hunted demons, handpicked from hundreds of applicants. Demons were tricky bastards, breaking any rules necessary to stay on Earth.
Tearing her eyes away from him, she pointed to the bowls on one of the upper shelves. A second too slow, she didn’t move out of his way. His body caging her, he stretched to his full length. Trapped against the counter, his firm chest brushed against her shoulder, sending tiny bolts of lightning along her spine.
The faint smell of wood smoke curled around her senses, tantalizing her.
Ignoring him while sitting at the table had been difficult, but she’d successfully buried her lustful thoughts. Total focus on the puzzle at hand helped her forget, if for a few hours, she found him attractive. A shame it’d also shown her his keen intelligence. Why did she have to find smart men so damn sexy?
She tensed and gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. Touching something she shouldn’t, no matter how tempting, was a definite no-no. The sneaky glimpse she’d had earlier this morning and during their workout burned every inch of luscious stretched muscle into her mind. She’d almost given away her naughty spying with that damn moan.
His stomach muscles clenched, molded against her back, as he grabbed the bowls. Suppressing the shiver of desire, she blankly stared at the bowls now sitting on the counter in front of her.
“Pick one and I’ll put the rest back.” His voice husky and deep murmured next to her ear, his breath tickling her skin. Fumbling, she latched on the second one from the top, hoping it was the appropriate size. Metal rung loud in the still air and she twitched.
Steadying himself with a hand on her opposite shoulder, he reached upwards, his full length pressed firmly against her. Her nerve endings oversensitive, each minute movement he made fanning the burning flame within her. All told, it took him less than a few seconds to put the bowls away.
Her body swore an eternity passed. A delicious, blisteringly h
ot, incredible eternity.
Something so innocent and it caused a firestorm in her blood. She flushed at the thoughts swirling in her head. How in the nine hells was she going to survive time alone with him? And what in the nine hells was wrong with her? She didn’t react this way towards a man, especially one she just met.
“Ah, thanks. I’m making French toast. Shouldn’t take me too long.” She kept her back to him, avoiding all eye contact. She needed time to wrest her thoughts under control along with her racing pulse. He left the room and she sighed in relief.
Absentminded, unfocused on her task, she grabbed some eggs from the fridge and cracked them into the bowl.
“Damn it.” She muttered. Shell fragments mocked her, marring the perfection of the yolk. A tiny burst of magic lifted them out and she directed it towards the sink.
Turning on the stove, she placed a frying pan on the heating element. Her thoughts in turmoil, she beat the eggs, trying to work out what had just happened. Butter tossed into the frying pan, the sizzle reminding her she needed to dip the bread into the beaten eggs.
She didn’t read anything into it on his part though. She wasn’t the sort to attract the attention of someone like him: smart, good-looking and talented. While cute, she wasn’t anything special. When she dressed up to the nines though, playing up her sleek body and healthy chest, she easily turned heads.
Now, she wasn’t even close to looking her best. No make-up, ratty clothes and lacking a shower. A glance in the mirror earlier made her fervently wished she hadn’t bothered. And while she’d had boyfriends over the years, none of them had been anything like Jackson.
And then there was the Enforcer upbringing to consider. After being handpicked and joining the Academy at six years old, they raised the students as siblings. Lumping each age group together, they went through schooling and training the same as humans. Once puberty hit, they separated the students according to their talents. Most couldn’t access their magical ability until they were older, but still showed an affinity for a certain school of magic.
Magic Resistant Page 6
