Hot Magic

by Catherine Kean

He’d heard stories of Experts who’d been corrupted by the objects they’d been sent to contain. No man was immune to dark magic, although Lucian had never encountered a power strong or complex enough to tempt him…until now.

  He lifted his hands from Molly.

  Her eyes opened. “How about dessert?” she murmured.

  Both warning and desire shot through his veins.

  “We’ll move into the living room,” she added. “It’s more comfortable in there.”

  “Okay. I’ll bring my sword.”

  “In case you have to defend my realm?” she asked coyly.

  He chuckled. “Something like that. Can I help bring in the coffee and dessert?”

  “You pour the coffee. I’ll handle the dessert. Do you like Tiramisu?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  After serving up the java, he carried the mugs into the living room and set them on the coffee table then returned for his sword. As he laid the sheathed weapon across his lap, Molly walked in with two servings of dessert. “It’s another recipe from my friend,” she said as she sat beside him and set down the glass dishes. “Luckily, it has zero calories.”

  “I can’t quite believe that.”

  Grinning, Molly said, “It’s magic Tiramisu.”

  Lucian took a bite. As the mocha, chocolate, and mascarpone flavors melded on his tongue, he groaned. “That’s phenomenal.”

  “There’s plenty more.”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  She brought a spoonful of the decadent dessert to her lips. As her mouth opened to take in the confection, he couldn’t look away. He stared, captivated, while her lush lips closed around the spoon.

  Desire roared within him. He wanted to haul her to him and devour the dessert’s sweetness on her mouth; to claim her as his.

  He could give her pleasure and get hold of the necklace…if he seduced her.

  “So. My sword.”

  Molly giggled. The wicked voice in her head—the one that had urged her to tease him with her first bite of Tiramisu—wouldn’t shut up. As she’d closed her lips around the spoon, she’d done as the voice had suggested and watched his gaze sharpen to a smolder and his breathing quicken.

  Have another bite. Make Lucian wild for you, and he won’t be able to resist you.

  Even as the whisper goaded her on, another inner voice struggled to be heard. Molly was hardly a temptress. She’d never pursued a man in such a way before, so why did she think it was a good idea now?

  You’re not the woman you were months ago. You’re single; ready for new challenges. Take a risk and seduce him.

  She fought a shiver of anticipation.

  A dull thud drew her attention back to Lucian. He’d set his dessert aside. With the hiss of metal against leather, he drew the sword from its scabbard. Light gleamed along the steel blade which he laid at an angle across his legs so the tip hovered over the coffee table.

  “It’s a beautiful weapon,” Molly murmured.

  “I think so, too.” Pride warmed his tone.

  “Has it been in your family since it was made?”

  He nodded. “My ancestors wielded this sword in a great many skirmishes.”

  “In England, I’m guessing?”

  “Many of the battles took place in England, but not all of them.” As Lucian told her more of the history of the weapon, she finished her dessert. He was a talented storyteller. He really brought the past to life.

  And his voice…. Rich, deep, and compelling, it caused goose bumps to rise on her arms. He’d make a wonderful audio book narrator of historical romances, although listening to his sexy voice might distract her so much she’d drive off the road.

  “…and when my parents’ estate was settled, that’s how it came to me.” After turning the blade over to show her the other side, he returned it to the scabbard, so effortlessly, he’d obviously done that exact same movement countless times.

  “You look pretty comfortable with that sword. Have you taken lessons?” she asked.

  He propped it against the end of the sofa. “I’ve been told I have a natural talent.”

  “You really should have been born in the Middle Ages.”

  “I like being where I am right now.”

  A thrill raced through her.

  “In fact,” he rasped, “I consider myself lucky to be where I am right now.”

  Excitement raced through Molly, and their gazes locked. Held by his intense stare, she felt giddy, as though he’d chased her through a field and had caught up to her, and now intended to claim what was his.

  Oh, how she wanted his kiss.

  Don’t give in yet. Tease him again. Make him crazy with lust.

  As though aware of her thoughts, Lucian growled low in his throat.

  The predatory sound made her eyelids flutter. Her hand closed around the necklace again, and she smiled, emboldened by the feel of the jewelry against her fingertips.

  “You know, you seem different tonight,” Lucian murmured.

  “How so?”

  “You’re more…outgoing.”

  Was that his quaint word for provocative?

  “Go on,” she purred.

  “Your eyes. They’re brighter, somehow.”

  She winked, even as reason cried: This isn’t you, Molly.

  You’re a more confident, sexier version of you now, the naughty voice countered.

  “Your smile.” With his right arm along the back of the sofa, Lucian leaned in closer. “It’s more tempting.”

  “Is that so bad?” Where had that sultriness come from?

  You.

  Lightheadedness taunted Molly again, and she put her hand to her forehead, tried to mentally push aside the heaviness blanketing her mind.

  “Molly.”

  She opened her eyes, knowing even before she did that Lucian had moved nearer. He smelled of a blend of lemon and spice. Her heart pounded, because all she had to do was lean forward and she could lose herself in kissing him.

  Not yet. Torment him more, the inner voice urged.

  No, this isn’t you, the rational voice cried again.

  “Molly,” Lucian said.

  “Mmm?” Was he going to be old-fashioned and ask permission to kiss her? That would be so Lucian. Another giggle welled in her throat, even as his fingers brushed her cheek, a touch so incredibly tender, she shuddered. His fingertips glided down to her jaw, under her chin, and as she inhaled on a rush of desire, he nudged her chin up. She had no choice but to look directly at him.

  His brown eyes gleamed with suspicion, but also hunger.

  You’re the cause of that hunger. Enjoy your power over him.

  The voice of reason tried to speak up, but she ignored it and rubbed her cheek against his palm. His hand trembled slightly.

  “Will you do something for me?” he asked softly.

  “That depends.”

  Yes, keep tormenting him.

  “Take off the necklace.”

  Do it, urged the rational voice.

  “No,” she said.

  Wait. How had she answered ‘no,’ when she hadn’t yet considered how to respond? But, her confusion was swiftly eliminated by a surge of desire.

  “Take off the necklace, Molly,” Lucian said again.

  “Why?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, I’d like to see it.”

  No. “I don’t want it appraised. I’m keeping it.”

  “I’d still like to take a look at it. I can’t when you’re still wearing it.”

  Distract him. Use his hunger for you.

  “Listen, if you take the necklace off—”

  Pushing aside Lucian’s hand under her chin, Molly shoved forward and crushed her mouth to his.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Molly collided with Lucian and kissed him, his arms instinctively went around her. Momentum propelled him backward on the sofa. His head landed on a cushion.

  His conscience reminded him she wasn’t acting herself. But, his body eagerly responded to her
hot mouth on his; her perfect breasts crushed against his chest; and her pelvis pressed to his groin.

  He groaned. He’d secretly dreamed of having urgent, incredible sex with her. But to have her in his arms for real, kissing him like she wanted to tear off his clothes and be naked together, was almost more than he could stand.

  She kissed him deeper. Her tongue delved into his mouth.

  He groaned again.

  Fire.

  Every part of his being was aflame with hunger.

  “Lucian,” she moaned.

  He struggled to think. As he fought for focus, he sensed the necklace between their bodies. The pendant touched his shirt. Dark power streamed over him; tried to break through his magic.

  Molly kissed his jaw, his neck, his throat. “Come to my bedroom,” she whispered against his skin.

  “Molly—”

  Her lips nibbled his. “I want you.”

  He definitely wanted her. Badly.

  Did Molly really want him, though? Or was the corrupt energy manipulating her?

  As though aware of his thoughts, she pushed up on her elbows on his chest. Her lower body shifted against his, and he shuddered at the delicious friction.

  “Do you want me?” she asked, her voice throaty.

  He loosened his hold on her waist. With both hands, he stroked her hair back from her face. “I do want you. Very much.” But, there was only one sure way to know if Molly truly desired him: remove the necklace’s influence.

  He stroked her hair again. When she shut her eyes, clearly enjoying his caress, he continued, working his way lower each time. His fingers slid from the ends of her hair to her collarbone. If he could work his way inward, to the necklace’s clasp….

  Her eyes opened. Setting her hands flat on his torso, she started to move off him.

  His hands settled at her waist again. “Don’t move.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you stay, you’ll find out.”

  Her lips curved in a coy grin. “This is my house, so my rules. Let’s go to—”

  His hands slid up her ribcage. His thumbs grazed the undersides of her breasts.

  Her lips parted on a gasp, and her head tipped back, her hair spilling about her shoulders. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “I know.” Triumph warmed him as he caressed her once more with his thumbs, and she gasped again. Dark magic from the necklace spilled over his hands.

  Continuing his caresses, he shifted his hands higher, little by little, his thumbs grazing her beaded nipples through her top. A cry broke from her.

  He dared to touch higher. When his fingertips brushed the satiny slopes of her shoulders, Molly opened her eyes and caught hold of his hands.

  Had she guessed he was going to undo the necklace?

  He held still, waiting for her next move. His breathing seemed loud to his own ears. Without a word, she slid off him, her skirt tumbling back down to her knees. She pulled him to his feet and linked her fingers through his. Their palms touched. Skin to skin….

  He ached to caress her. He yearned to make her cry out with pleasure, to lose himself in their passionate lovemaking. He craved that a lot more than getting hold of the necklace.

  No, his conscience said. The dark magic is your priority.

  Even as he tried to rein in his desire, Molly pulled him down the shadowed hallway into a bedroom, lit by a lamp on the bedside table.

  When she turned to him, her hair gilded by lamplight, he couldn’t resist hauling her to him. He growled low, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her hard. She leaned into him, matching him kiss for greedy kiss.

  “Lucian….”

  God, how he wanted her. Nudging her with his legs, he urged her backward toward the bed.

  When the backs of her knees touched the mattress, she fisted her hand into the front of his shirt. She sat and scooted into the middle of the bed, while pulling him down with her. His body settled over hers; the perfect fit. Flushed and panting, she squirmed against him.

  So beautiful.

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Touch me,” she whispered.

  Get the necklace.

  “How’s this?” With a grin, Lucian trailed his fingers along her jaw.

  Whimpering, she swatted his arm. “No.”

  Get the necklace.

  “I’m burning,” Molly pleaded.

  “So am I.” He kissed her. His fingers kept wandering, slowly, until they brushed the links of the chain around her neck. “Can we take this off? It’ll get in the way, yes?”

  Her eyes narrowed. Her lips parted, as though she was about to say no. Then she blinked and looked pained, as if she was refusing the urge to refuse.

  Molly was fighting the dark magic.

  Get the necklace! Now.

  He tugged on the chain to bring the clasp into view.

  “Stop,” Molly snarled. She grabbed his wrist and dug in her nails. For barely a second, her gaze sparked—the same orange-yellow hue as fire.

  What the hell…?

  Lucian sent a pulse of magic, woven with a sleeping spell, along the gold chain. Molly’s eyelids drifted closed. Grabbing the clasp, he unfastened the necklace.

  When his fingers closed around the jewel, its powerful energy whipped through his hand and up his arm. Dear. God….

  He staggered away from the bed. The box. Where—?

  His gaze landed on the dresser and the plain wooden box. That had to be it.

  By sheer strength of will, Lucian crossed to the furnishing and dropped the necklace into the box. As he shoved on the lid, a vision flashed in his mind: A damsel screaming. A blazing fire. A woman chanting.

  The lid closed. The images vanished.

  What had he just seen? Anguish, horror, and remorse tangled up inside him. The overwhelming intensity of the emotions made him want to vomit.

  His vision had to be linked to the necklace’s evil magic. The scene, though, had felt intensely personal; as though he’d been there.

  Had the magic accessed one of his past lives? Or had he experienced an event involving a previous owner of the necklace? Questions he couldn’t answer, but must ask Julius.

  Drawing in steadying breaths, he glanced at Molly. She lay asleep on the quilt, her lips slightly parted. She seemed all right, but was she?

  Still fighting to recover from the ghastly vision, Lucian sat next to her. The mattress dipped at his weight, but she didn’t stir. He gently raised her eyelids and checked her eyes, but they were their normal blue color. No sign of the fire-like spark.

  He hadn’t imagined it, but he also couldn’t explain it. He’d never seen anything like it.

  At least he now had the necklace, and soon, it would be locked away forever. She’d be upset when she woke to discover that he’d left and taken the jewel, but he’d think of a reasonable explanation for his actions. He’d also ensure The Experts compensated her well for the necklace.

  “I’m sorry for the sleeping spell,” he said quietly. “I’ll make tonight up to you, I promise.”

  Lucian rose and pocketed the box. If only he could be sure the dark magic hadn’t hurt her—

  A thudding noise reached him: the sound of paws pounding on glass.

  “Luciaaaannnn.” Rose’s wail sounded distant. It would, though, since she was yelling through the patio door. How long had she been making that racket? She’d bring the neighbors over to check everything was okay, and Lucian would rather not have to deal with that awkward situation.

  He hurried to the kitchen and opened the sliding door.

  “Finally,” Rose groused. The other three felines followed her inside.

  “We wondered if we’d be out there all night,” Petunia said.

  “Without food, water, or even a litter box,” Daisy added. “With our tiny bladders, that would have been disastrous.”

  “That’s not the only thing we wondered.” Marigold eyed him up and down. “You still have your clothes on. You don’t look like you and Molly…um….”

 
; “Because we didn’t.” Lucian locked the door.

  Turning around, he found the four cats sitting in a semi-circle, watching him.

  “Why didn’t you have sex?” Rose demanded.

  Whoa. “That’s none of your busin—”

  Rose held up a paw. “Molly’s like a daughter to us, so yes, it is our business.”

  “Maybe he was too stressed.” Daisy’s tone softened with sympathy. “Was that it, Lucian? Performance anxiety?”

  “No!”

  “What’s that bulge in his front pocket?” Marigold asked. “It’s obviously not, well, you know.”

  “It’s the box.” Rose growled. “He has the necklace.”

  No point trying to deny it. Lucian nodded.

  Rose hissed, her hackles going up.

  “As I told you before, it’s my duty to secure the dark magic.”

  “How did you get the necklace from Molly?” The gray feline glanced about the kitchen. “Where is she now? Why isn’t she here with you? Is she all right?”

  He bristled at the accusation in Rose’s tone. “Molly’s fine. She’s sleeping.”

  “Sleeping?” Marigold snorted. “Is that some kind of euphemism?”

  “No—”

  “She invites a hot guy like you for dinner and then goes to sleep? What woman in her right mind would skip sex to do that?”

  “An exhausted one?” Daisy said helpfully. “She has been busy with the house.”

  “He used magic on her,” Rose said flatly. “Didn’t you, Lucian?”

  Rose was now speaking to him as though he’d not only betrayed their beloved mistress, but had stolen every morsel of cat food in the house. He would not tolerate her insulting his integrity. “I did use magic,” he said. “However, I only did what I deemed necessary. With respect, I don’t have to explain—”

  “You do,” the feline cut in. “Your duty is important, but so is ours.”

  He should be in his car, driving to the antique shop by now. How tempted he was to turn on his heel and walk out, but his gut instincts told him she had information he needed to hear. “What’s your duty, if I may ask?”

  The four cats exchanged glances then nodded.

  “We—the four of us—were born a very long time ago in Sherwood Forest in England,” Rose said.

  England, once again. Coincidence? Not likely. “I guessed you were Sherwood cats from your markings,” Lucian said. “Some Sherwoods have magical abilities, right? Is that why when you talk, I can understand you?”