by Anya Bast
She doubted anyone would have heard the ruckus. The library was far from the residential portion of the Coven and it was the middle of the night. The wards were set to register magickal disturbances, not swords thrown through windows.
Isabelle wondered how Boyle had gotten into the Coven, though she suspected she knew. Witch magick didn’t work on demons, so it went to follow that neither did wardings. The reason was moot; obviously, he’d gotten through. She would have the bruises on her throat to show for it, not to mention a lovely decision to make.
Not that it was much of a decision.
She wouldn’t go out without a fight, though. Already her mind worked through the possibilities. Maybe there was a way she could defeat Boyle, keep her life and that of the witch of the equivalent magickal consistency who would serve in her place. Maybe she could.
Or maybe not.
FIFTEEN
THOMAS STOOD ON HIS SCATTERED, SOAKED PAPERWORK in the middle of his office, morning light shining through his shattered window, wondering what the hell had happened. It looked like a bomb had hit.
“Thomas?”
Isabelle appeared in the doorway, looking somehow pale and fragile. What the hell could make Isabelle look pale and fragile?
Alarmed, he walked toward her. “Are you all right? What happened in here? Fuck,” he breathed as he got closer and glimpsed the bruising around her throat. He took her by the shoulders. “Isabelle, what’s going on?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice, gravelly and tired-sounding, revealed the lie. “But we have a problem.”
“Just one?”
She smiled faintly. “I found out last night the demon can breach the Coven’s wards.”
Everything became clear. A cold jolt of terror for Isabelle’s safety replaced the blood in his veins for a moment. “You fought the demon here, in the library?”
“Yes, and another thing, he’s not allergic to copper anymore.”
He considered her words. “You’re telling me that the demon has no weaknesses and you still defeated it?”
She nodded. “He almost choked me to death, but I managed to beat him off. Then I wounded him with your sword. It didn’t cause the reaction in him, but it did injure him enough to cause him to retreat and leave me alive.”
The coldness in his veins transformed to hot rage at the thought of Boyle putting his hands around her throat. He had to force his vocal cords into action and his hands to unclench. “Why did he come after you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is I went for a walk last night and decided to come to the library. When I flipped on the light, there he was.”
“Did he say anything? Did he give you any kind of a clue about why he came here?”
She shook her head.
His intuition niggled. “Are you sure?”
She stared straight up into his eyes. Isabelle had such pretty eyes, too bad there was a lie in them. “I’m sure.”
“What are you hiding from me, Isabelle?” he pressed. “Tell me.”
She blinked and licked her lips. “I think he’s taken a liking to me.”
Fear fisted cold in his stomach. His hands on her shoulders tightened. “What makes you think that?”
“His way with me, asking me personal questions. Didn’t Micah say demons could become infatuated with their prey?”
“Yes.” He compressed his lips into a thin line. “Do you think you’re prey to him?” His desire to protect Isabelle was overwhelming. All he wanted at this moment was to lock her away in some steel room and put fifty guards on her, then go out and kill the demon with his own bare hands.
“Aren’t we all? Why do you think Boyle was able to get into the Coven?”
“I’m not surprised he could penetrate our wards,” he replied. “I always suspected he could since his magick isn’t anything we can tool our security system for.”
“Alien magick. So he can just come and go as he pleases.”
“It appears that way.”
“Lovely.”
“That means, first, you go see Doctor Oliver and, second, you stay in my room with me every night.” He felt his expression harden. “I don’t want you out alone in the Coven after hours when there’s no one around.”
Indignation overtook her face in a millisecond. Her shoulders and spine straightened. “I’m not hiding from Boyle under your covers every night.”
“The hell you’re not. You just lied to me. That demon came gunning for you for some reason and you’re not telling me why. I’m not leaving you alone so he can pick you off. This is not a discussion. You’re staying with me, Isabelle. I want you protected.”
Cold fury lit her eyes and set her mouth into a thin, dangerous line. Her voice shook when she replied. “I won’t do it. You’re going to have to drag me in there and lock the door.”
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
She turned on her heel and walked away from him.
“Go find Doctor Oliver!” he called after her as he followed her out the door.
“Go to hell, Thomas!” she called back.
Thomas watched her climb the stairs to the second floor and disappear from view without looking back at him. He didn’t care how she felt about it, didn’t care at this point how she felt about him. His only goal was to keep her safe. If that meant pissing her off, so be it. He really would throw her over his shoulder and lock her in his room if it was necessary. The tattoo on his back tingled. He knew just the spell to keep her from leaving.
Some primitive male portion of his psyche had declared Isabelle his. Some leftover caveman part of his brain had decided he needed to protect her, destroy anyone—or any demon—who wanted to hurt her, challenge any other man who dared try to take her away from him.
He wasn’t sure when that possessive tendency over Isabelle had kicked in; maybe it had happened when he realized his feelings for her went further than just the physical. Maybe it was the maddening vulnerability that Isabelle possessed underneath all her bravado. In any case, knowing Isabelle had battled the demon alone made the part of him that had marked her as his go crazy.
The thought of finding Isabelle like her sister had been found was incomprehensible. His mind couldn’t even go there. So Isabelle would be spending her nights with him from now on. He would protect her. If she hated him for it, so be it.
“SO…YOU AND THE BOSS MAN, HUH?”
Isabelle glanced at Adam. “It’s just sex.” It wasn’t. Not anymore. But that wasn’t Adam’s business.
They were headed back to the Coven after another day of fruitless searching for Boyle. Every day they checked and rechecked all the places where they knew he hung out and had the warehouse under constant surveillance, but they kept coming up empty.
“That’s cool. I’m not judging. I think it’s pretty healthy, actually. Monahan is one guy who could really benefit from a little no-strings-attached shagging.”
“Yeah, he seems a little…immersed in his job.”
“Immersed, yeah. Try: That man’s ass is so tight if you shoved a lump of coal up there you’d have a diamond in no time.”
She grinned. “Kinky.”
“He’s chilled out some since you came along. Thank you for that.”
“Anything I can do to help.” She paused. “Or anyone, in this case.”
“If that’s the truth, I’ve been a little tense lately, too—”
She punched him in the shoulder and laughed. “That’s your current flavor-of-the-month’s responsibility, you man-whore.”
“Man-whore?” He cast her a look of mock indignation. “I am not a man-whore. How can I help it if I’m beloved by all the ladies? I would be doing them a disservice if I didn’t oblige.”
“Yes, I shudder to think.” She laughed. “The world without your willing body in it would definitely be less bright for womankind.”
Adam turned his SUV past the security gates of the Coven and guided it down the winding road toward the house.
“So what’s
Micah’s story anyway?” she asked him when the conversation had lulled. “I heard he’s got some serious issues with the Duskoff?”
“Don’t we all?” he muttered.
She stared out the window at the dark, winding road and tried not to think of Angela. “Yes.”
Adam’s hands tightened noticeably on the steering wheel. “Micah’s mom was killed by a warlock when he was just a kid. Ever since then he’s been jonesing for some revenge. But Micah’s skills are more in the realm of the brain than the body. Guy graduated top in his class at MIT and he’s got major mojo, too. Serious ass amounts of magick. Anyway, after he got his degree he could have done anything, made lots of cash working in the non-magickal world. Instead, he came to work for the Coven and he’s been here ever since, doing research and fetching and carrying for Monahan.”
“Sounds like he’s hiding,” she commented.
Adam laughed. “Micah? Nah. Micah is deceptive as all hell. He’s just looking for the right opportunity to kick their collective asses, you’ll see.”
She nodded. All of them had really been touched in some way by the Duskoff. “So what’s Theo’s story?”
“Theodosius? Oh, man, he’s got a story all right. The Duskoff got him for a while when he was a teenager, tried to break him because he has all this earth magick to call. The warlocks thought they could get him young and twist him for their own purposes. They tortured him and nearly killed him in the process, but the Coven broke him out. Got scars all over his body to show for his little stay with the warlocks. The second he could, Theo joined the Coven. He’s one of our top hunters.”
She chewed her lower lip. That’s why she’d felt a strange sort of kindredness with Theo. Their histories were dissimilar, but they shared one past incident—abuse, though it sounded like Theo’s had been far more traumatic than hers.
“And your story?” she asked him.
Adam went silent for several heartbeats, then laughed harshly. “Sorry, baby girl. That one’s not up for discussion.”
“Sorry, Adam. Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
“No sweat, but it’s just not something I want to talk about.”
He parked the SUV in front of the house and put it into park. She climbed out and looked up into the night sky to admire the scattering of bright stars.
Where was Boyle tonight?
She hadn’t told Thomas about the demon’s ultimatum…and she never would. His interference will mean his death. That’s what Boyle had said.
Her life wasn’t worth Thomas’s life. It just wasn’t.
Thomas strode from the front door of the Coven, drawing her eye. He wore a pair of close-fitting jeans, a black sweater, and black boots. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes hooded, and his jaw locked, and his long, loose hair streamed around him as he walked toward her with purpose.
“Thomas—” She only had time to get the one word out before he grabbed her around the waist and hefted her over his shoulder. “Thomas!” she yelled at him as he turned without a word and walked back up the stairs and into the Coven.
Lady, she never thought he’d literally do this!
Adam’s laughter rang behind her as Thomas carried her off.
Despite her outrage and despite the looks they got from the Coven’s inhabitants, he carried her through the building. Thomas was single-minded in his focus and nothing she said or did stopped his slow, purposeful stalk to his room.
Once inside, he slammed the door closed with his foot and Isabelle felt the hiss snap along her nerve endings as a warding spell seal his apartment.
Her throat closed and the familiar panic tingled through her limbs. Her breath came quick, her heart started to pound, and she felt her eyes grow wide. She dragged in a harsh, ragged-sounding lungful of air.
Thomas sat her on the couch. Looking down at her, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She raised a hand and shook her head, trying to ease her panic enough to speak. Closing her eyes, she fought to regulate her breathing and talk to herself rationally. Thomas didn’t know about her problem with locked rooms and small places. She was safe here, safe. She was always safe with Thomas.
His hands closed over her shoulders. “Isabelle?”
She opened her mouth to tell him she was okay, then shook her head again. Even though she knew she was safe here with him, she couldn’t tamp down her primal reaction to being locked in a room. Isabelle bolted from the couch, pushed past Thomas and ran to the door.
The warding spell felt heavy, viscous, as she slid her hand into it to try the knob. Thomas’s magick was strong. She could taste it on the back of her tongue like dark, fertile soil.
The door knob wouldn’t budge, of course. Thomas had keyed the spell to prevent her from turning or manipulating the door in any way. Her mind sought ways her water magick could counter it and came up empty.
“Thomas, don’t do this.” Her voice sounded shaky.
“Already done.”
She couldn’t spend the night locked in this room. She couldn’t. “What if”—her mind cast about for arguments—“what if Boyle shows up tonight and I’m locked in here with no escape? This could be dangerous.”
“The warding is set to register your emotions. If you’re fleeing for your life in absolute terror, the magick will know and allow you through.”
A key to the warding. Maybe she could turn it.
Isabelle opened the floodgate to her fears, allowing all her terror to come pouring forth. She remembered…a tiny, dark closet.
Sand washed mouth, or so it felt like. Pressing her tongue to the floor where Angela poured water under the door’s crack. Never enough, never enough. Stomach gnawing on itself from the inside. Searching jacket pockets for crumbs. Curling up in a corner with only two tattered coats and the smell of mothballs for company.
She remembered imagining she was one of those cave-dwelling insects she’d read about at school. They’d evolved without eyes since their world was constantly dark. Would she eventually lose her eyes, too?
But most of all, Isabelle remembered her sister’s tiny, child’s voice on the other side of the door. I can’t find the key, Isa, I can’t find it.
Her heart beat faster. Her breath came in short, hard little pants that stabbed her chest. Isabelle tried the door again and it opened a crack.
Thomas placed his hand near her head, palm flat against the door. He pushed it closed. “Is staying here tonight with me so frightening, Isabelle?” His voice was a low, silken murmur.
She closed her eyes and felt the prick of tears. Again she reminded herself that she wasn’t in that closet anymore. Now she was an adult, empowered, able to take care of herself. She was with a man who had never hurt her, would never hurt her. Indeed, he only wanted to protect her, would probably give his life to do so.
Thomas cared about her. He was one of the few in this world who did.
Her panic receded and she wrestled her breathing and heart rate under control once more. Her breath shuddered out of her in relief as she gave up the last of her terror. A tear plopped onto the carpet at her feet.
Thomas turned her to face him. Concern for her marked his handsome face and for a moment she loved him for it.
Maybe for even more than a moment.
He brushed the pad of his thumb down her cheek, catching a second stray teardrop. “Please talk to me for once, Isabelle. It’s clear this is about more than me locking you in this room for your protection.”
She stared at him, her lips parting a little. Finally she nodded. “It is. I have claustrophobia, and I tend to panic when I’m locked in rooms.”
“Shit, Isabelle. I’m sorry. I—”
She put her fingers to his lips and gave him a shaky smile. “It’s all right. I’m okay and you didn’t know.” She dragged her fingers from his mouth, up his jawline to cup his cheek. “I think I’m all right now.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she went up on her toes and kissed him before it came out.
Thom
as reacted instantly, threading his arms around her waist and lifting her away from the door. His hands were on her everywhere at once, working the button and zipper of her jeans, and then pulling her shirt over her head.
She went to her knees and dragged the hem of his sweater upward, licking her tongue over his hard abs as they were revealed. Having risen to meet his mouth, she pulled the sweater over his head and quickly divested him of the rest of his clothing between kisses. Soon she slid against him skin-on-skin.
Mouth and tongue working, Thomas muscled her up against a nearby wall and turned her to face it. He’d left her shoes on and now she saw why. They had a thick heel and elevated her, lessening the difference in their height so they could make love in a standing position.
Panting with anticipation, she spread her palms flat against the wall in front of her as he ran his hands down her body lovingly, over her breasts, across her stomach. He delved between her buttocks, planing the curves, and then dipped between her thighs to drag his fingers over her intimate flesh.
Her breath hissed out of her and she felt herself cream. Thomas slid two fingers deep inside her and at the same time pressed his body against hers. His teeth nipped at the nape of her neck, raising gooseflesh along her body.
Maybe being locked in Thomas’s room for the night wouldn’t be so bad.
“Isabelle,” he murmured, his lips giving butterfly kisses to her skin as he spoke. “Forgive me. I don’t want to lose you, and I never want to hurt you. You’re becoming very important to me.”
As he was to her.
Every moment brought that truth more firmly to bear within her heart and mind. Thomas was a man to stay for. At this point all of that was lovely, but moot, wasn’t it? How could she admit her feelings for Thomas now, when the demon had designs on her body and soul?
The time for that was long past, gone with a visit from a demon in the silent dead of night.
“Stop thinking,” Thomas growled and then sank his teeth into her shoulder just hard enough to get her attention.
