by L. E. Wilson
His fingers stilled on the bottle, but despite his calm demeanor, she knew he was aware of her proximity. Very aware. Yet, while her pulse paused and stuttered as if it tried to relay everything she felt in Morse code, she could hear his beating strong and steady beneath the orchestral sounds of disco.
“Won’t you sit down?” He nodded at the chair across from him.
Shea hesitated. A quick glance around ensured her they were still the only ones on the patio. She swallowed nervously. He’d never hurt her in any way while she’d been with him, but she still didn’t trust him.
One side of Jesse’s mouth quirked up in a sardonic mask of a smile. “I mean you no harm, Shea. I just want to talk.”
Pulling the chair out from the table, she angled it so her back was to the half wall surrounding the patio and she was facing the door that led inside to the dance floor. As soon as she sat down, the raven hopped along the wall to stand near her and squawked in greeting, picking up a strand of Shea’s long hair and running it through her beak. She reached back and stroked the silky feathers of the bird’s cheek. “Hey, Cruthú.”
“She missed you.” He paused, allowing Shea to absorb the heavier meaning implied with those words before he continued, “I wanted to come and check on you after our phone call. I was concerned. I’m glad to see you are safe and well.”
Shea didn’t know how to respond. “There was no need for you to do that.”
“Of course there was. I had no idea you were in possession of one of the boxes the demons are after, or I would have checked on you sooner.”
Shea didn’t know how he hadn’t known. He seemed to know everything.
Jesse lowered his eyes to the untouched bottle of beer. He spun the bottle with his fingertips, until it balanced on a tilt. Removing his fingers, it continued to spin for a few seconds by itself.
Shea watched the bottle spin, fascinated, until he grabbed it and stopped the momentum.
When he lifted his gaze again, the intensity within made them glow bright as the sun. “I missed you, as well.” Clearing his throat, he glanced away and went on before she could respond to that surprising statement. “What happened to the box?”
It took her a moment to answer him, unsure if he was friend or foe at this point. “It’s gone.”
His eyes flashed back to her face. One eyebrow lifted. “Gone?”
She nodded, not seeing the harm in telling him what happened in either scenario. “The demons got their hands on Dante’s mate and threatened her life. He gave up the box to save her.” Jesse knew vampires, and therefore, she knew he was well-aware of the weakness they had for their mates. She wasn’t giving any secrets away.
The warlock cocked his head and stared at her. “They didn’t kill her.”
“No. They tried, but Dante and Laney both survived.”
“Good.” His face was grim. “But the demons got the box anyway.”
“Yes.” Her tone was bleak. During their phone call a few days earlier, Jesse had warned her of the consequences if this were to occur.
“If they’ve found the others, the last clue will lead them to their original blood. It will allow them to reanimate to their true forms.” He gazed past her shoulder, his forehead creasing. “They will destroy this world, you know.”
Shea stopped petting the raven and dropped her hand back into her lap. She waited until his attention once again focused on her. It took a few seconds, and she knew he was seeing a future they could not allow to occur. A future of hell on earth. “Luukas plans to find it before they do.”
“The blood?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t appear reassured. “And how will he do that? When I last spoke with you, you didn’t even know what it was you had until I told you. Does he have any idea where the blood is hidden?”
With a sigh, Shea shook her head. She didn’t bother arguing the point that he could have saved this all from happening if he had just told her about it from the beginning. “No. But finding it first is our only hope.”
“He won’t be able to stop them now, Shea. I can’t stop them. No one can.”
“But you released them—” She slammed her mouth shut with an audible click before she could say anymore. She wanted to ask him why. Why he had done such a thing. What did he hope to gain from it?
However, she didn’t really need to ask. She knew. He’d helped free them because he was evil, like Leeha. Like the demons.
“Releasing them was easier than sending them back will be. They wanted to be free. They don’t want to go back. It would take more blood and magic than I alone possess to do so.”
The implications of his words began to truly sink in. Fear loosened her bowels and clenched at her heart. “There has to be a way to send them back to hell…to chain them to the altar again. It was done once before, it can be done again.” For if what he said was true, they were all well and truly fucked—humans, animals, and supernatural creatures alike.
“The first time it was done by a full coven of witches using a lost form of dark magic. Keira is powerful in her own right, but even if I wanted to help, it wouldn’t be enough with only the two of us.”
“What if there were six of you?”
He cocked his head at her. “Six?”
“There are five Moss witches residing with us now. Keira and her sister, Emma, Grace, Ryan, and Laney. Some of them knew of their heritage, some didn’t. Keira is working with them, strengthening their magic and their control. Laney is a Protector.” She stuttered to a halt before she said too much. “With your help—”
“No, Shea. I’m sorry.”
She would think he was upset about being unable to help her, but for the stubborn set of his jaw.
Shea sat back in her chair and averted her eyes from the enticing male. There was more going on here than he was telling her.
The silence stretched between them. It would have been deafening if not for the music and the small sounds the raven made as she tried to get Shea to stroke her again. A human couple wandered out into the area, the males heading to the opposite side of the patio to make out in the corner.
Shea ran her hand down Cruthú’s soft feathers one last time, then stood. “I should go.”
Jesse stood also, reaching for her hand across the small tabletop.
She tensed, pulling it out of his reach with a quiet hiss, flashing her fangs at the male. “Don’t touch me.”
Pain darkened his golden eyes, but he pulled his hand back and held his clenched fist at his side. That tiny glimpse into his soul was gone so fast, Shea wondered if she had imagined it. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to try to convince you to stay a bit longer.”
“I can’t, Jesse. I have to go.” Away from you. His masculine scent permeated her nose, causing the thirst to burn with an intensity that tilted the world around her. She needed to feed, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t drink from him. Instinct told her such intimacy would be devastating for her, and not just because of the physical pain it would cause. “I need to go,” she repeated.
“Let me come with you—”
“No!” She wanted to tell him that she preferred to be alone, wanted to tell him that out of all the males she knew, his company was the one she wanted least, but she couldn’t force herself to form the words. It would be a lie, and she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. Not with the way he was looking at her, seeing right through to her soul. She lowered her voice. “No. You can’t. If the others saw you here, they would kill you.”
His expression hardened. “They could try.”
He wasn’t being cocky. It was the truth. She’d heard about the battle between Jesse and Luukas. Even with Keira’s magic thrown in to help, Luukas was convinced Jesse had only been toying with them. They’d survived for one reason: because Jesse had left the scene and allowed them to leave.
“I need to go. Goodbye, Cruthú.” She paused, the next words catching in her throat for reasons she didn’t want to define. “Goodbye, Jesse.”
Turning away before he could say anything else, she made her way through the burgeoning crowd inside the dark club. A few males bumped into her accidentally as she edged around the dance floor, but Shea’s hisses of pain were drowned out by the thumping beat of the music.
Once safely outside again, she waved to the bouncer and strolled down the street with a casual swagger until she reached the corner, so as not to raise suspicion. But as Cruthú circled the sky above her, she felt anything but calm.
An icy chill slithered down her spine.
The raven’s eyes weren’t the only ones watching her.
Chapter 3
Jesse watched Shea until she was out of sight. The female was a strange combination of street thug and elegance, and he knew she would be just at home in a brawl as in a ballroom.
It utterly intrigued him.
But he’d been a fool to come here and face her, hoping for…what? That she would tell him she missed him, too? Run into his arms and allow him to hold her as he so longed to do? Her aversion to touching him hadn’t changed.
He narrowed his eyes as he watched her go out of her way to avoid walking into a group of males heading toward the club just before she’d turned the corner.
Jesse glanced up at Cruthú, reassuring himself that she knew what was asked of her, and turned to walk in the opposite direction. As he strolled past aged apartment buildings, small shops, and couples heading out for the night, his mind spun with all he had learned that night. Shea had jerked away every time someone had accidentally brushed against her as she’d made her way through the throng of writhing bodies on the dance floor. Her sounds of pain had not gone unnoticed by him, though no one else would have heard, but he’d assumed it was the blood lust he’d sensed that made her grumpy. She was thirsty, which he would assume was the reason she was here.
But, perhaps he was wrong. Was it possible her aversion to being touched wasn’t caused only by her repulsion to him? He’d witnessed her fear when she’d been his guest up north, and his gut had told him there was more going on with her than met the eye. And it appeared his instincts had been right. She’d even told him straight out he could not touch her. But it appeared she wasn’t afraid of him, merely of his touch. And anyone else’s, it seemed.
A vampire who required blood to survive, yet was repulsed by touch. And the mystery thickened….
Then something else occurred to him, and his heart nearly dropped right out of his chest. If he would never be able to touch her, he would never feel if her skin was as soft as it looked, or feel the touch of her small hands exploring him in return.
It was a sobering vision of the future. One that he would have to do something about. Immediately.
He didn’t follow her. There was no need. He knew exactly where she lived, and the raven would keep an eye on her. His friend would let him know if Shea went off course or got herself into any trouble she couldn’t handle on her own.
After their phone call a few days before, when she had called to ask him about the box, Jesse had done little but pace the confines of his room, waiting for the phone to ring again so he could hear her voice on the other end and know that she was safe. Their short time away from each other had been torture for him. He found he could barely eat. And at night, when he would lie in the bed she had slept in, the scent of her would surround him until he could think of little else but burying himself inside her. And when he would finally fall asleep, her whiskey voice would whisper to him in his dreams.
Unable to sit and do nothing any longer, Jesse had gathered a few things and come to Seattle. It was time to go on a little trip, and he thought perhaps he could convince the vampire, convince Shea, to come with him.
Cruthú, his only friend, had eagerly voiced her opinion about the trip from her perch near his bed as she’d watched him pack, and had made herself at home in his truck as soon as he’d opened the door. She’d ridden on the passenger seat the entire way, only getting out to stretch her wings when he’d stopped for gas. Jesse was happy she’d decided to come with him. He didn’t like leaving her.
Or perhaps it was only that if the bird ever left him, he would be utterly alone.
As he strolled down the rain-slickened street, he breathed in the salty sea air and thought about what Shea had just told him. He needed to find out where the demons had taken the box, and whether they were still in the area. Shea did not seem inclined to share anything more than what she had already told him, and if he tried to approach Luukas or any of the other vampires, he doubted they would give him the chance to defend himself before they went for his head, let alone the time to speak to them. Of course, there was no way he could justify what he had done to the Master Vampire, or his part in releasing the demons from their place in hell. And he wouldn’t bother to try. He had his reasons for doing what he did.
It was true, what he had told Shea about sending them back. He, alone, would not be able to do it. He needed a spell to do that. A spell that was lost around the same time his father had shown up again. But the demons didn’t know that, and he planned on using that threat to get them to do what he wanted them to do—the reason he’d helped Leeha bring them back.
Chapter 4
Shea locked her apartment door behind her and leaned against it with a shaky exhale. She thought she’d be able to breath again once she was safely inside.
She’d been wrong.
Bending at the waist, she untied her boots and kicked them off, leaving them lined up neatly on the mat by the door. Her skin felt hot and tight, and she plucked at the front of her silk top before finally just pulling it up and off. Wearing only her jeans and bra, she made her way through her small apartment to the little galley kitchen and grabbed a water out of the fridge.
Jesse’s sudden appearance had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. So much so, her stomach felt like Cruthú was fluttering around inside of it. So, after about an hour of prowling the streets of Seattle, she’d given up on finding a female to feed on and had just come straight home. It was a pure stroke of luck that she hadn’t run into any of the guys on her way upstairs. One look at her flushed face and protruding fangs and they would’ve known something was up. And like the pain in the asses they were, they would’ve pestered her about it until she wanted to scream—because they were nosy, and because they worried like the brothers she’d never known she’d wanted, but was very grateful to have.
But even if they had caught her on her way in, she knew she wouldn’t have told them what was really causing her discomfort. She had no intention of telling them about Jesse showing up at the club, or that she had spoken to him. For reasons even Shea herself couldn’t fully comprehend, she felt protective of the dark warlock. She just hoped this act of kindness didn’t come back to bite her in the ass anytime soon.
She’d just changed into a pair of loose pajama pants and a white cotton tank when there was a knock on the door. Pausing with one hand in her sock drawer, Shea closed her eyes. Her hands began to shake. Quietly closing the drawer, she placed them over her stomach. Butterflies were slamming around in there again, and she was glad she hadn’t fed.
It was him. She didn’t know how she knew it, she just did.
His scent came to her as soon as she left her bedroom; woodsy and masculine with a touch of something dark and wicked. It called to her like a warrior’s song. His blood would taste sinful and forbidden, she knew, and her fangs shot down into her mouth even as her womb clenched with longing of a completely different kind. Closing her eyes, she battled the urge to fling open the door just so she could lay her eyes on his face.
“Shea, I know you’re there.” His low voice came through the heavy wood. “Open the door.” It wasn’t a request.
She should definitely not open the door. As a matter of fact, she should leave him out there for the others to find. But before the thought had even completely formed, she found her hand on the lock, then on the latch, and she swung the door open wide.
He was even more all
uring than just a few hours ago. Impossible, but true. Cruthú sat quietly on his shoulder, her talons making deep impressions in the soft cashmere of his dark, blood-red sweater, yet he didn’t appear to be in any pain. His eyes immediately dropped to her mouth, then down to her nipples, easily seen protruding beneath the thin material of her tank top. They hardened even more beneath the weight of his stare, and his lips parted on a harsh exhale.
She crossed her arms to cover herself, and to keep herself from yanking off her shirt and baring her breasts to his hungry gaze. “Please go away,” she whispered. Though if she were to be honest with herself, she didn’t really mean it. She’d done nothing but think of him since he’d let her go.
He ignored her, and continued his perusal all the way down to her bare toes, peeking out from the hem of her pants, and then slowly back up to her face. “I can’t,” he said simply. “Let me in, Shea.”
His golden eyes locked with hers, bright and intense, and after a slight hesitation she stepped back out of the way so he could enter. He came inside, but kept his distance, much to her relief, and continued past her into her small apartment. Shea closed and locked the door behind him, taking a few moments to gather her composure before joining him in the other room. It didn’t do much good.
She found him in the kitchen, rummaging through her fridge. He helped himself to a bottle of water and took it to the kitchen island, seating himself on a stool. Cruthú hopped down and went to investigate the pages of a magazine lying near the sink.
He looked like he belonged there.
