And I'd killed them.
In fact, it had been this one, the one with those haunting, hunted eyes that my hands had been on when the presence of Lilith slithered from my mind and my muscles. I didn't instantly loosen my grip. I crushed his throat until I was certain he was dead. Then I banged his head against the floor, despite arms trembling from overexertion.
I remember feeling the cool whisper of Lilith's pleasure, and the sense of Her coiling deep inside my abdomen, settling in for contented sleep. I also remember how, with cold detachment, I surveyed the carnage. I'm certain that is why Lilith chose to stay with me—part of Her recognized me as kin.
But I wasn't a killer by choice. I'd done what I'd had to, hadn't I? "Too bad the order was in the business of killing innocent people."
Dominguez gave a little chuckle. "You're sounding like a suspect now."
I was taken aback by his comment. Now? Wasn't I one before? Could he read my guilt in my face? Could he see the dark Goddess in my eyes? Maybe everyone could. My violet eyes were a kind of mark of Cain, after all. "Do I really look like a killer to you?"
Dominguez shifted in his seat, as though to get a better look at me. The muscle in his jaw twitched. "People don't look like killers, Ms. Lacey. They just are."
There was a sadness in his voice, and I found myself reaching out to pat his hand in sympathy. How much would it suck to be a psychic cop? "You've seen a lot, haven't you?"
His eyes dropped to where I touched him. I could see his mouth working like he knew that the proper thing would be to ask me not to touch him, but he wasn't quite ready to do that. "This isn't about me," he said quietly.
No, it was about me. It was about what Lilith and I had done. The rain tapped insistently at the roof, and I could feel our breath mingling in the nearness of the car. We were close enough that I could catch the scent of rich, dark coffee that clung to him, and that dangerous otherness that was likely gun oil. "Do you believe in magic, Dominguez?"
Dominguez smiled darkly. He moved to brush my hand away, and his fingers touched the back of my hand. My breath caught.
Our gazes locked instantly, intensely. I felt drawn to move closer to him, almost like there was a physical hand on my back pushing. I needed to stay focused on the task at hand. Speak, Garnet. Tell him that you need help, and only his big, strong, capable self will do. My mouth opened.
And he kissed me.
His lips were surprisingly soft and sensual. I don't know why, maybe it was the whole cop demeanor, but I expected coarse and pushy. Not that there wasn't heat, but it was a fire under control. Sexy in its potential.
I wondered what it would take for him to loosen up, to let the passion out. I ran my fingers through his hair and wrapped them around the muscles of his shoulders, pulling him into a more demanding kiss.
Dominguez broke our kiss, but his face stayed within the intimate zone. Fingers stroked softly at the hair that covered my ear. His eyes watched mine with a tantalizing openness, vulnerability. He kissed the tip of my nose gently, making me laugh at the sheer sweetness of the gesture.
Then his lips brushed my cheeks, sending a corresponding flutter down my spine.
My hands caressed coat mostly, though what I wanted was a better feel the slope of muscular shoulders and arms. Perhaps psychically sensing my desire, Dominguez shrugged enough out of his coat that I could slip it over his arms. Hooking my fingers around the knot of his tie, I began working it loose.
Dominguez's breath tickled my ear as he made an appreciative noise. He nibbled at my earlobe; his tongue darting out just enough to allow my imagination to screen a preview of other places he might lick with such skill. "Oh, very nice," I said encouragingly.
His tie slid off into my hand, and I tossed it blindly into the backseat.
Apparently, my Chippendales-like move inspired him, because he leaned back enough for me to get a good view, and started slowly, seductively unbuttoning his shirt. Each button undone revealed more chestnut-brown skin. I could see touches of dark, wiry hair scattered across the hint of well-defined pectorals. I must have looked appreciative because he smiled that secret you-think-I'm-sexy smile.
When he got to the last button and I could see shadows that implied a taut, washboard stomach, he stopped and gave me an expectant look.
I slid my hands under his shirt and felt the hard, smooth heat of his shoulders, even as I had a "yummy" thought juxtaposed with a this-man-is-getting-naked-in-the-car,-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon panic. Though the windows were fogged, anyone could walk by and see us like this. I imagined a policeman knocking on our window, and Dominguez calmly explaining he was an FBI agent interrogating a suspect, except, of course, he was the naked one. A laugh escaped at the thought.
Dominguez eyebrows shot up like he wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, although when my hands got to his chest his nipples told a different story. I suspected other things had also hardened, and I couldn't keep another laugh down.
His cheeks flushed crimson, and, perhaps to hide his growing embarrassment/arousal, he pulled me into a searing kiss. I yanked his shirt down, and he let himself be taken out of it.
Dominguez surprised me by sliding his hands up my waist to rest just shy of my breasts. It felt like kind of a dare, an I'll-go-further-if-you-go-further sort of thing.
Oooh, this was getting fun.
Before I could make my next move, Dominguez worked a hand under my sweater. Even through the bra, Dominguez's fingers found my nipples. Spikes of pleasure shot directly to my groin. All conscious thought vanished, and I started to sweat. The bulky wool sweater had to go. In my frantic attempt to disrobe, my elbow got caught in the neck hole and tangled around a bra strap, and for moment all I saw was warm, black weave and the silk pouch of the love spell. That was all I needed. The second I stopped to consider what we were doing—and why we were doing it—the passion, which had so quickly ramped up, died.
I awkwardly backed into my clothes, using my elbows to push away Dominguez's hands. "Um," I said, once my head popped back through the collar. "We can't."
I expected some kind of argument, a lot of heartfelt cajoling, or at the very least a look of intense disappointment. Instead, he smiled. "I understand," he said, despite the obvious straining against his jeans, which was probably extremely painful right about now. "I love you," Dominguez said. "Will you marry me?"
And then he hugged me. His nose nuzzled my hair and neck, and his arms crushed my waist with passion.
I suppose, given that I'd just been the one to slam on the brakes, I should have ignored the broad naked body pressed against me. But my hands roamed along the contours of his back. My fingers massaged strong shoulder blades and torso. Fingernails raked across skin, causing his back to arch so deliciously.
And somewhere through the pheromone fog his words finally hit. "Marry you?"
"I doubt Mama will approve of you," he said, lifting his head from where it rested against my shoulder to look me in the eye. "But we'll have to convince them our love is true."
Except it's not, I thought. It's all a product of my overactive spell. "I'm sure what you're feeling is intense, because Goddess knows I'm having the same problem, but it's not really love. Or even really lust. Not true, anyway."
"It's true. I know it's kind of sudden, but I'm serious. I love you. I intend to marry you, Ms. Garnet Lacey."
What the hell did I say to that? I mean, okay, I was used to the occasional lover in the past who declared his undying affection for me particularly after great sex, but Dominguez and I hadn't even really got to the good bits, and, well, marriage? Seriously? When I broke away from his earnest, desperate gaze, my eyes strayed to the charm between my breasts.
"You don't mean that," I said, untangling myself from him. I regretted leaving the warmth of his embrace not only because I suddenly felt cruel but also because he had no shirt and it was cold. Goose pimples rose on his skin. Everywhere.
"No, I do," Dominguez insisted. "I want you to be my wife, proper
ly. A big church wedding."
"I'm a Witch."
"Oh, okay, well, we can work something out. Maybe we can compromise and get a Unitarian minister to perform the ceremony. They're nearly pagan."
The Unitarians actually had a pagan organization called CUUPS, Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans, but this really wasn't the time to discuss all that. "I don't want to marry you, Dominguez. I don't even know you."
"I need you. I can't live without you." He put his hands gently on my shoulders, and nudged me into a soft, loving kiss.
The kiss was very nice, especially the way his fingers stroked the back of my neck, and it threatened to stir things up for me again. This was getting ridiculous. I grabbed the charm back in both hands and pulled at the seal until it broke. A short burst of gale-force wind whistled around the car, making the shocks creak and the car bounce.
Dominguez's hands shot from my body as if he'd been burned.
"Santa Maria," I heard him say under his breath. He stared in horror at his hands, which he held out in front of himself like a doctor awaiting gloves. Then he crossed himself, noticed he had almost no clothes on, and folded his arms in front of his chest. Now, his eyes searched mine.
"What the hell happened?" He glanced around his car seat with a frown until he located his shirt. The sleeve had gotten draped into a coffee cup full of stale coffee. He looked at me accusingly as he wrung it out.
"Love spell. A little too potent."
"A spell? You expect me to believe that?" he asked.
I showed him the broken charm. "How else do you explain what just happened?"
We both glanced at his naked torso. I blushed. He jerked on his shirt. "Hormones?" He growled. "Being on the rebound?"
I quirked a single eyebrow at him; I'd love to know more about that story, but I decided to stay on target. "Do you usually show so little self-restraint, special agent? Or do you ask all the girls to marry you?"
A frown creased his forehead as he buttoned his shirt. "No."
Lightning struck somewhere nearby, rattling the windows with the simultaneous thunder. We both jumped a little. After we'd recovered, I showed him the spell bag again. "Magic."
"You put the hex on me?" He had to reach past me to grab his tie off the rear dash. I came face-to-face with his rumpled shirt and, for the briefest second, smelled his skin. The scent brought to mind a naked image I had to jerk back from. In my haste to put space between us, I nearly whacked my head on the window. Noticing my reaction, his face crumpled in an angry-at-the-awkwardness-of-this frown.
"Uh, well. It's not a hex. It was just supposed to be a little nudge, you know? Okay. I need to work on the formula, clearly."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Okay. That's obstructing justice. You're under arrest."
"I'm what?"
"Under arrest." He produced handcuffs from somewhere. One snapped on my wrist expertly.
I stared at the cuff. After what we'd just nearly done, I gave him the I-hope-this-is-some-kind-of-fetish-and-not-the-real-deal look.
Dominguez stared back quite seriously, like he meant I was under arrest, for real.
He had to be insane. "You're going to arrest me for casting a spell?"
His face flushed again. "Uh."
"I know I just spent minutes convincing you magic is real, but do you really think that's going to fly at the home office? Booga-booga," I said, waving my hands at him like an old-fashioned sorcerer. "I had to arrest her, boys, she cast a spell on me."
I'd kind of hoped he'd realize how foolish that sounded, but the way his expression hardened told me my plan had backfired. His eyes narrowed angrily. "You also lied to me about who you were." The second ring latched with a cold, metallic snap. "That's also obstruction."
My hands were locked together in front of me. I held them up, still stunned, still expecting Dominguez to produce the key and smile and say, "Ha, ha, got you there. I'm such a funny guy, messing with your head like that."
But he didn't.
Instead, Dominguez started the engine. The wipers must have been left on because they slashed across the windshield. Even on high, all they did was move the water around.
I looked down at the chain holding my wrists together. I'd never been arrested before in my life. I tugged and felt the cuffs cut into my wrist. I tugged harder. I couldn't break free. I was really bound. A wave of claustrophobia washed over me. I bit my lip. "This is serious." When he didn't reply, I asked, "What's going to happen?"
"We'll go to headquarters. I'll charge you with obstruction of justice. Unless you decide you want to confess to something else in the meantime." He gave me a quick glance, and I shook my head. "We'll book you—take the mug shot, fingerprints… all the usual stuff. At some point a judge will decide bail."
"At some point? I have work tomorrow. Who's going to cover for me at the store? What about Barney? Who'll feed her? I can't go to jail. I have stuff to do, responsibilities. I need to call Sebastian, let someone know where I am."
"If you can't do the time…" Dominguez turned on the defrost to try to clear up the steam we'd created. He reached for his seat belt, but stopped. He leaned over to buckle me in, and it was all suddenly too restrictive, too close.
I felt Lilith rumble across my abdomen. Her fire spread outward from my still dully throbbing loins. Lilith's heat warmed me, steadied me. Dominguez eyes caught mine. I don't know what he saw there, but he looked for a long moment.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
I couldn't suppress a chuckle. All right? How could he even ask that? I was going to jail. I was going to lose my job. Barney was going to starve to death. The click of the buckle echoed in my ear, like a clang of a cell door.
Almost as an afterthought, he said, "I should read you your rights."
Lilith laughed. I let Her.
I saw Dominguez's eyes widen. Then the last thing I felt was Her rending the chain of the handcuffs asunder, with a crack like the sound of all Hell breaking loose.
6
Virgo
KEYWORDS:
Practical and Exacting
Rain pounded down around me. Its thundering beat melded with the rumbling of the freight train that shook the bridge over my head. The air smelled of rotting leaves and steel. Curled into a fetal position, my body was wedged into a thin, flat space at the top of a sharply angled concrete slope. Below, beyond a chain-link fence, I could see the lights of passing cars and hear the hiss of the tires as they passed into the relatively dry space under the bridge.
My wrists ached. Something smelled awful, like scorched skin. I suspected Lilith melted the rings of the cuffs, because I was no longer wearing them.
Unfolding myself, I continued to take a physical inventory. Broken fingernails. I was laying in something slimy. Mud?
Oh, right: blood.
Gobs of it congealed all over the shoulder of my sweater, spattered on my pants, clung to creases inside my palms.
This time I had no one to blame but myself. I'd let Her come. Dominguez was dead because I killed him.
The coppery smell suddenly overwhelmed me. I turned my head to the side and threw up into a hollow made by one of the support beams.
My world spun out of control. A dark curtain dropped, and I saw concrete. Then nothing, not even pain.
* * * *
I woke again to darkness. This time it was accompanied by the pleasant smell of damp hay. The storm rumbled in the distance and rain softly clinked against a metal gutter just outside the window, but I was tucked under a thick feather comforter.
"Mom?" I knew the moment after I spoke that I wasn't in Finlayson, but the scent of farm was so strong there was only one other place I could be. "Sebastian?"
"You're safe here, Garnet." The nearness of his voice startled me. In the darkness, it took me a moment to register the quilt-covered shape on the overstuffed chair as Sebastian. "You've lost a lot of blood. You were shot."
Shot? The instant I shifted in bed, I felt the tight bandage
immobilizing my shoulder. The pain I knew should accompany a gunshot wound, however, felt fuzzy and distant. In fact, the pain I didn't feel had a pleasant edge to it, like maybe, even though I'd just killed someone, it wasn't such a big deal after all.
"You dosed me with one of your crazy home-grown narcotics, didn't you?"
"There are advantages to being an herbalist." The smile was obvious in his voice.
"Heh," I said, sounding, even to my own ears, like a total druggie. I let myself revel in my altered state of well-being and listened to the after-rain sounds outside the window. Crickets creaked. Wind rustled.
I could sleep.
Except.
Part of my addled brain struggled with something I sensed was important for me to understand. How did I end up shot? Of course, Dominguez must have done it, silly. He's a cop. He carries a gun.
Yeah,except…
Shhh. Go to sleep, Garnet.
I yawned. That seemed like a sensible plan. I reached up to rub my eyes, only to feel a tight pull across my chest and a sharp stab of pain. Pain in my shoulder, where I was shot.
After Lilith rose. Yeah, that was the important part. If Dominguez wounded me after Lilith took over, he was at least alive long enough to pull the trigger. That might not mean anything, except that usually I woke up and had a body to deal with. I'd woken up alone. No body. Dominguez could be alive.
Hope fluttered in my stomach. Maybe the majority of the blood I'd been lying in had been my own. Dominguez might not be dead, after all. Maybe, just maybe, he'd been able to deflect Lilith's wrath. Perhaps when he shot me Lilith's power had ebbed enough for him to make some kind of escape.
If—and I prayed for that if with my whole heart—if Dominguez was still alive, he'd seen Lilith now. It might be possible to convince him of the truth. Even if my eyes didn't glow lava red when She possessed me, which they did, and which ought to be pretty convincing evidence that something magical was afoot, Dominguez wasn't just your average mundane. The guy was psychic. He would have felt the difference. Some part of him would have been aware of Lilith's presence. Something might just have registered in the back of his brain that said, "This is not Garnet." Maybe despite everything that happened, he'd still be open to hearing my side of the story.
Dead Sexy Page 9
