Cait clung to his sturdy frame, a hand bunching up his shirt and her face pressed against the solid muscles of his chest, so hard and reassuring, letting him guide her wobbly steps.
“Almost there, baby,” he shouted in her ear.
Once the pneumatic doors whooshed closed behind them, hospital security worked in their favor, hustling them into a private treatment room. When the curtain was pulled, things went quickly. Her wound was cleaned, the larger gouges stitched closed. She was to receive a tetanus shot despite her objections.
“I’m sure I had one once,” she mumbled, unable to hide a cringe. She hated needles. Sam stood beside the treatment table, muscled arms crossed over his chest.
The harried doctor gave him a glance.
He’d been taking all his cues from her ex. How effed up was that?
With her shirt removed and her bra strap cut, she felt small and vulnerable. Even the antibiotic cream that was applied made her weepy.
At Sam’s curt nod, the doctor said, “I’ll be right back with that shot.”
Jason whipped back the curtain and stepped inside. His glance swept her nearly nude torso. “Nasty bite.”
“Where?” She was so tired she could barely infuse her voice with outrage. But she could still manage a snarl. “You’re looking at my tits.”
His gaze jerked to Sam, who gave him a curdling stare. He cleared his throat. “Found that name for you, Cait. A nurse gave me the info.”
“No problems with the privacy of the patient?”
“HIPAA-schmippa.” He grinned. “The nurse and I have a date next Friday.”
“Sure you don’t mind a hitchhiker?”
Jason glanced around. “She here?”
With a slow turn, Cait looked behind her.
Miss Daisy grinned back.
“Ready to take a ride?”
“Been ready,” the old woman said, her voice crisp. “What kept you?”
Cait laughed, then winced. When she turned back to Jason, he wore a comical look of incomprehension. “Walk slow. And talk to her.”
Jason bent toward Cait and whispered. “But I can’t hear her.”
“Doesn’t matter. She loses track. On account of the Alzheimer’s. Remind her she has to find Frank.”
Miss Daisy gave a fluttering wave of her fingertips and followed Jason around the curtain.
“That’s how it’s gonna be?” Sam asked gruffly, his gaze flitting around the curtained area.
Cait shrugged the unbitten shoulder. “Guess so. It bother you?”
He shook his head. “Are you OK with it?”
Screwing up her face, she looked away. The ever-present voices were hushed, a soothing melody of whispers. For the first time, she recognized them for what they’d always been—friends, looking out for her welfare. “I think so.”
The doctor pushed through the curtain, holding up a syringe. “Do I have to strap you to a gurney?”
She glanced at Sam, who gave her the evil eye. “Don’t think so. I’m more scared of him.”
The doctor approached, the syringe getting larger the closer he came. “It’s not gonna hurt a bit.”
But he lied. Cait let out a heartfelt howl.
Still later, Sam, Cait, and Jason met in front of the agency.
Sam popped his trunk, and all three peered inside at the small metal can.
With a careful move, Cait reached into it.
Sam touched her hand before it closed around a shard of glass. “Should you be touching that?”
“Just making sure.” She picked up a long, narrow piece and held it to catch the sunlight.
The mirror glinted brightly back.
She narrowed her gaze, staring into the fragment of reflection, and caught a wisp that didn’t have a thing to do with the scant clouds in the sky. “Yeah, we’re good. Want to see?”
His lips firming into a narrow line, Sam held out his hand and squinted at the glass. “You’re sure it’s in there?” Suddenly, his eyes widened. With a jerk, he dropped the sliver into the can and wiped his hands on the sides of the trousers.
She couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah. No escape. Unless someone magically glues all the pieces together.”
“Couldn’t we just pulverize the whole thing and scatter it to the winds?”
She smiled at his man-think idea. “And take the risk that someone might want to pull all those pieces back together? All that’s needed is one good ‘come-together’ spell.”
Sam shook his head. “Your call.”
“So where’s it going to stay?” Jason asked.
By his expression, the last thing he wanted was to take a look for himself.
“Our office safe?” she suggested. “It’s not like we keep any cash in it. But just until I can figure out how to demolish the pieces the right way.” She tapped her chin. “Maybe an exorcism spell?”
“Sorry I asked.” Jason raised his arms over his head and gave a loud yawn. “Don’t know about you two, but I’m beat. See you tomorrow?”
Cait met Sam’s simmering gaze and couldn’t look away. “I’m taking the rest of the week off.”
“Don’t blame you,” Jason said, a wry note of humor in his voice. He pointed to the can. “Can I leave you with that?”
“We have it handled.”
Hours later, Sam leaned over Cait and kissed her bottom, right over the spot where the doctor had insisted she needed the injection. “Feel better now?”
Cait pushed her face into the soft pillow. She didn’t like the lazy edge of humor in his deep voice. “No,” she grumbled. “I’ve been bathed like a baby. Slept nearly the whole night away. Plus, I’m sore all over. You want sex now?” OK, so she was whining. The girl who’d just saved Memphis deserved a pity party.
As he kneaded the globes of her ass, Sam chuckled. “I’ll make it all better.”
His large hard hands did indeed do a creditable job of massaging away the aches as they moved over her thighs and bottom, then cupped her sides, thumbs digging into her spine and feathering outward.
Cait sighed and drifted off, riding a sublime cloud of relaxing pleasure.
A wet tongue slipped somewhere it had no business going.
“Sam?” Her eyes shot open, and she reached behind her to swat his head away from her rump. “Stop that!”
“Don’t you trust me, Cait?”
“With some things, yes.” She clutched the pillow and came up on her elbows, then turned her head to mutter over her shoulder. “But that doesn’t mean anything like that is ever gonna happen.”
Still out of sight, his laughter was low and dirty. “Now that I have your attention…”
Those hands she so loved turned her gently to lie on her back. It was then she noticed he’d stripped. Hard to miss. His cock jutted boldly from his groin.
When he climbed over her hips and settled atop her, she wet her lips. “Think this is smart? My contract’s up. Henry’s killer was caught. The girls are recovering nicely. Everything tied up with a pretty bow.”
“Not everything,” he said, gripping his shaft and giving it a sexy tug.
“What about our being partners only for the duration?”
His eyes narrowed, and he gave himself another slow stroke. “What about the next ‘full moon’ case? Shouldn’t we keep close tabs? Make sure our investigations don’t intersect again? More efficient that way.”
She watched his eyelids drift to half-closed. Cait couldn’t resist the urge to reach down, shove away his hands, and glide her fingers over his long, hard cock. “Makes sense,” she said, nodding, her own eyelids drifting into mean slits. “That way we’ll keep abreast.”
Taking his cue, he cupped one mound with a warm hand.
Her nipple dimpled, the tip hardening instantly as he gently groped. He flicked his thumb across the bead, eliciting a sharp hiss.
Her hips rolled, and she nearly lost her train of thought. Though what trains had to do with anything at the moment, she didn’t have a clue. One corner of her mou
th kicked up in a smile.
Sam’s gaze dipped to her mouth. “Through finding excuses?”
“Through teasing?” She tightened her grip, just to make sure he was fully aware the time for talk had ended.
Sam came down on his forearms, then shifted his knees to nudge between her closed thighs. When she’d made room, he settled on his elbows, his huge, hard cock digging into her soft belly.
The moment of truth had finally arrived. Cait bit her bottom lip.
Sam sighed. His hands cupped either side of her face, his fingers slipping into her hair. “What now? What’s going through that little mind of yours?”
“Saying I’m stupid?” She jutted her chin, even though after all that had happened, she wasn’t feeling particularly stubborn or brave.
“No, just trying to rile you.”
“Well, it’s working,” she muttered, letting her eyelids flutter down to hide her true emotions.
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tell me.”
Calm settled over her. Not something she had to force, like when she cast a spell. This calm felt momentous, like something predestined was about to happen. “Sam?”
“Yes, baby?”
That pet name again. Her eyes flitted back to his and held. “What you said in the cave…”
So her voice was breathy, hesitant. She hadn’t suddenly gone all girlie and angsty. But she had to know, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for the answer, whichever way it went.
“What did I say?” he asked, his gaze steady, his body and breaths so still.
A clue that he felt it, too.
She drew a deep breath and whispered, “I love you too.”
And even though she was repeating his words, they were hers as well. She felt them all the way to her toes and every deliciously hot place in between.
His eyes closed, and his face drew closer. “I didn’t hear you,” he said quietly.
Her own breath caught and held at the expression his proud features bore. “I said…I love you too.”
He peeked at her between his dark lashes. “Now, was that so hard?”
Cait brought a hand between them and laid it against his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart. “Matter of fact, it was.”
“We’ll work on that.” And then he kissed her.
Long and hard. Just like she needed. Oh, this man knew her so well. Moisture tracked down each side of her face to where his fingers cradled her head. When he drew back, she gave him a tremulous smile. “Sorry. Guess that tetanus shot was too much for me to handle.”
Sam smiled, shifting again, hips flexing as he lifted himself, found her center, and slid gently inside. “Can’t promise any of this is going to be easy.”
“I’m willing to pull up my big girl panties.”
“Not for a while you won’t.”
A laugh caught her by surprise. “Not for another six days, anyway.”
As they began to move together, their movements familiar and yet somehow fresh and new, Cait held Sam close, wrapping her arms and legs around him tightly. This time, she’d never let him go.
Cait didn’t know what woke her.
Maybe the even breathing of the man lying beside her, his arms and legs in a lovely, masculine sprawl. Or maybe a niggling feeling of something left undone.
Had she left the stove burning?
On the third day of their self-imposed lockdown, they’d finally decided delivery pizza had made the apartment smell like dirty socks. She’d rustled through her fridge and found a couple of steaks, only partly freezer-burned. Together, they’d made themselves a real meal before falling back into bed for another round of nasty.
Her body ached, but not from her healing injuries. Sam’s superior physical shape was taking a toll on her own. Not that she was complaining. Far from it.
Still, something felt wrong.
Slipping silently from the room, she pulled on a robe and belted it at the waist. She checked the stove, but it was cool to the touch. Parting the curtains, she glanced out to the road, but in the early morning hours, the street was quiet.
As she headed back to the bedroom, she glanced at the hall closet. The one where, all those years ago, she’d hidden the mojo bag. The one where another part of her past rested.
In that moment she envisioned it and felt a sweet peacefulness cloak her shoulders.
It was time.
Carrying a chair to the closet, she climbed up, reached into the back, and pulled out her mother’s most prized possession. The one Cait had locked away since the day of her death.
She carried it to the kitchen table, set it down, and then busied herself making a hot cup of bracing tea. With Sam beginning to snore in the other room, she had time alone to explore. To try again.
When she’d added honey and a little milk to the mixture, she took the cup back to the table and set it to the side. Then, with her heart beating fast, a sense of wonder growing inside her chest, she turned to the first page of her mother’s Book of Shadows.
Taking her time, she trailed a finger down the line of all the names scratched into the yellowed parchment. All the women, moving backward through the generations. Their blood was hers, along with their many varied gifts. Inside the heavy volume was their history, interspersed with the spells they’d found practical and necessary.
Now was the time to embrace her past and learn what she was capable of. Time to begin.
Tracing her mother’s name with a fingertip, she felt closer to her than she had in years. Lorene O’Connell’s spirit was near. She would find her.
Cait leaned back in her chair, pulled open a drawer, and grabbed a ballpoint pen. So her name would be added by a pen from Nick the Plumber. She didn’t think the instrument mattered. Cait scrawled her name beneath her mother’s, then turned to the next page.
Morin didn’t watch as Celeste left the shop. His attention was consumed by everything she’d brought. News of Cait’s victory over the demon was welcome, as was the sunlight that filtered through the large window.
However, the gift she’d left in the small box atop the table was what drew him.
Careful not to touch it directly, he reached inside. When he pulled it free of packing peanuts, he unwrapped the edges of the soft lambskin covering from the top and set it in the pedestal.
Sunlight glinted in the swirling depths. He lifted a hand and cupped his palm, leaving space between his skin and the stone. Then, closing his eyes, he called to the elementals, singling out flame. “Show me.” When he opened his eyes, the rose hues swirled faster, then formed a figure at the center, slowly settling into details that made him smile.
He glanced over his shoulder, feeling a presence he’d only lately realized was close by. “Come,” he called, stepping slightly to the side to make room. “Come see your daughter.”
As he bent, he imagined Lorene did as well. They stared down at the small figure in the orb still charged with her energies. Cait was bent over the yellowed pages of a large book, her expression rapt, her lips moving as she read the incantations.
“She’s coming back to us, my dear.”
Please make it soon.
Acknowledgments
I would never have found this story, fully fleshed, without a trip to Memphis with my dear friend Shayla Kersten. I had a dream about an ex-cop in Memphis who found a handprint somewhere a handprint had no business being. I called Shayla and asked her if she had time to drive to Memphis the next weekend (Easter weekend!) so I could find my story. Like only the best of friends do, she dropped everything and spent three days with me tromping down Beale Street, crawling up embankments overlooking the Mississippi, and asking lonely trolley drivers very inappropriate questions. Without that weekend, I couldn’t have written this book. So thank you, Shayla!
And thanks to Virginia Ettel, who helped me dress up “Mama’s Spell.” I suck at poetry, but Virginia gave the polish that one pretty spell needed. My inner Cait could never have dredged it up alone.
A
bout the Author
Delilah Devlin was born in Spokane, Washington, and spent her childhood as a US Air Force brat. As an adult, she rebelled and went into the army, the first of several careers that would guide her around the world. Today she makes her home in Arkansas and continues to travel. The award-winning author of several paranormal romance, erotic romance, and erotica novels, novellas, and short stories, she channels her interests in mythology, history, and the occult into her writing.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Shattered Souls Page 22
