Hexbound: Book 2 of The Dark Arts Series

by Bec McMaster

  "Hex Perkins and Murphy got an alliance, pretty. That don't mean no stranger on our turf can walk 'round like he owns this here joint. There's a peckin' order here, boss. And you're on the lower rungs of it." Zachariah stopped an inch away from Bishop's face, even if he had to lift onto his toes to meet the sorcerer's eyes.

  Please don't, she tried to tell Bishop as those dark eyes glanced her way, then back to Zachariah.

  Bishop merely stared the enforcer down. Then brushed at his coat as though some riffraff off Zach's person had landed on him.

  Oh, hell.

  "If you're hoping to provoke a scuttle," she said, stepping forward hurriedly as Zach's eyes began to narrow, "you're looking in the wrong place. Mr. Bishop is...."—searching, searching for the right way to introduce one of the Sicarii—"He's a client."

  "Aye, lads. Listen to the little dollymop," Zachariah said flatly. "Usin' all them big words, like she's tryin' to prove that she got an ed-u-cay-tion and don't work flat on her back for a bit of spit-and-polish, eh, boys?"

  "He's not my lover," she shot back.

  "And you'd do well to treat the lady with some respect," Bishop announced, which sent the four of them into gales of laughter.

  Verity turned long enough to raise her eyebrows at him—you're not helping—then stepped between him and Zach. "Murphy's got me on a side job, you understand? Mess with us, and you'll bring Murphy's wrath down upon your head. Hex Perkins won't want that."

  Zach pushed her in the chest, forcing her to stagger back a step. "Aye, now there's a problem with that little story, there is. Ain't you heard?"

  "Heard what?"

  He grinned at his boys. "Murphy ain't gonna do nothin' if we have us a little fun with his leashed bitch."

  Verity went cold. What the hell was he talking about? She'd only been gone for a day and a night. What had happened?

  "That's enough of that," Bishop muttered.

  Zach's grin was nasty and he shot his finger under one arm as he dove for cover, shouting, "Crie vexus!"

  Curse! Verity punched into nothingness and reappeared five feet away, kicking Zach in the chin as he landed on his belly behind a set of crates. Hearing footsteps behind her, she spun, lashing out with her magic. The world drew close and tight and then power exploded out around her, taking her with it. Two feet to the right. The second she re-formed, she drove the flat chop of her hand into Zach's fat thug friend's throat, and he went down with a groan.

  "Step back," she warned the other gang members.

  Where the bloody hell was Bishop? She'd been anticipating blood and ooze leaking out of ears, but they were all still standing. A quick glance showed the sorcerer on his knees, breathing hard as he pressed his knuckles to the cobbles.

  Realization dawned. She'd been standing in front of him when Zach flung that curse. Which meant that when she'd translocated, he'd taken the full force of the blow. "Bishop, are you all right?"

  He grunted.

  And Zach laughed, which was when Verity saw red.

  A second later she re-formed, shoving a knee into Zach's back to keep him down.

  "What did you hit him with?" she snarled, yanking Zach's head back by a fistful of hair and pressing her knife to his throat.

  Everybody froze. The Black Cats turned into statues, watching the knife in her hand. She couldn't use it. Not without breaking the Code, but the threat of it made everyone realize just how serious she was.

  "Verity?" Bishop said, a strangled sound coming from his throat, as he slowly stood, moving carefully. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he half took a step toward her before forcing himself back into stillness and clenching his eyes shut.

  "He'll be... fine." Zach gasped. "Stiff as a corpse for a few hours, but—"

  "What was it?"

  "A little Lover Boy," Zach bleated, "though it was meant for you."

  Lover Boy... or Ladies Luck, as they called it in the vernacular. Because it would be amusing to see the unattainable Madame Noir lift her skirts and try to ride Bishop like a pony in the middle of the alley, overcome by lust. Verity's hands quivered with rage and she punched him in the face. All of the Dials came out in her, cutting through her clean Verity Hawkins persona. "You son of a bitch! What's the counter-curse?"

  Zach flinched, shielding his face. She punched him again, keeping an eye on Bishop just in case he lost control of the curse. "Counter-curse him, you little prick, or I'll cut yours off!"

  "Can't!" he gasped.

  "What do you mean, 'can't'?"

  "I don't have a counter-curse," he gasped. "Not for Lover Boy."

  God damn it. Verity withheld her fist, trying to mull her way through this.

  "It'll wear off in an hour or two." Zach rolled into a ball, using the chance to move away from her knife. He found his hands and feet, resting on his fingertips as he met her gaze. They both knew he couldn't escape her. "Meant nothin' by it, Madame. Just a friendly little hex."

  "'Friendly' my Aunt Nelly," she snapped, but he'd played within the rules of the Code and there was not much she could do about it. If it had hit her, then she'd have borne the consequences. The seven gang leaders who ruled the Hex might have considered the matter in Hex Gathering, but whilst they might have insisted Zach pay a tithe to her, secretly they'd have been stroking their moustaches to hide small smiles. The curse wasn't fatal. Zach would have won considerable esteem without causing any major damage, and that would have earned him man-about-town status whilst she was the one laughed about.

  Bishop stared at her, his nostrils flaring and his hands clenched, with a very prominent erection.

  "Cor," whispered someone behind her, "he's actually holding against it...."

  "That's bullshit," someone else muttered. "Can't nobody stand against Lover Boy."

  "Are you certain you're all right?" she asked. She'd seen grown men wade into whorehouses, forgetting about their wives and children, while under the influence of Lover Boy. A proud widow protesting the gin houses in St. Giles had taken four men in a back alley before it wore off.

  Black eyes shot open. The way he looked at her.... "Fine," he pronounced, very slowly and very clearly. "But I need to get out of here, right now. Before I turn a certain someone into a greasy smear on the cobbles."

  Before he lost control.

  Taking a few careful steps back toward him, she kept the knife in her hand. "Zachariah?"

  "Yes?" he asked warily.

  "I would have preferred to keep this business to myself, but you've just made it impossible." Verity let a nasty smile show. "You just cursed an Order sorcerer of the Grave Arts. This isn't over. We have business to conclude, which means we can't take the time to teach you a lesson, but if I were you, I would sleep with one eye open."

  Zachariah turned pale.

  "If I were you," Bishop growled, straining with sweat, "I wouldn't sleep at all."Then he turned and strode toward the mouth of the alley, forcing her to follow.

  * * *

  "I am so, so sorry," Verity said, hurrying after him and reaching for his arm.

  "Don't touch me," Bishop snarled, then froze as the curse crashed over him with intensity, sensing her proximity and trying to drown him in her nearness.

  The scent of her, all hot, wet woman.... He was almost overwhelmed by the sudden urge to press her against the wall, drag up her skirts, and fuck his way into her. The memory of that night she'd stolen the Chalice blinded him. He could almost feel her smooth skin under his touch.

  Verity froze like a rabbit in the hunter's sights. "You could... take care of that," she whispered. "I have rooms at the Crows, but there's another place I have when I want some privacy. If you wanted to... you know...."

  Bishop swallowed. Hard. Jesus bloody Christ. Was she suggesting what he thought she was?

  "It's not going to go away," Verity explained, clearing her throat as though she felt some sort of guilt for the matter.

  "Does this happen regularly?" Somehow the words formed.

  "Everyone's got their
own little curse. Zach's just tend to be nastier than others."

  Curses and hexes. He couldn't imagine sorcerers scrubbing around in the dirt like this and using their talents for two-bit entertainment. There was no training here, no rituals, no control. Just bottom-feeders like Zachariah, and from the way he'd treated Verity, this wasn't the first time he'd made a nuisance of himself. Anger swelled. "Has he ever hit you with this?"

  Verity's eyes went round. "No. But I've seen what it does."

  "This... is not right."

  "I know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think. I didn't factor in the fact that you were standing directly behind me."

  He was going to kill someone. Or four someones. All it would take would be to reach out with one hand and squeeze his fist, and they'd all four drop dead in the middle of the street, their hearts crushed with a thought....

  Do it, whispered the craving, the rushing temptation of the call of the Grave. All of that sweet, sweet power... his for the taking as he rode their death throes, drained them of every last....

  Bishop's eyes shot wide and he grabbed Verity by the shoulders. "Kiss me!"

  "What—?"

  "I'm going to kill them if you don't—"

  Verity grabbed his collar and hauled his body against hers. Bishop staggered, catching her by the upper arms and feeling all of that soft flesh pressed against his. She was so small, her cheeks revealing the fact that she didn't eat well, or often, but all he could think about right now was shoving a hand under her skirts and stroking the sleek skin there. Her mouth met his, and he lost his mind.

  Sweet. Soft. Tasting faintly of lemon tarts. It wasn't a gentle kiss, but she seemed to know what she was doing, and so he followed her actions, darting his tongue against hers and earning a soft gasp.

  Somehow her back hit the wall, and then he was sliding his mouth down her throat, his hands catching her up beneath the thighs as he shoved his hips into the vee of her legs. Good God. It felt amazing. He thrust against her, feeling the curse overwhelm him.

  "Bishop!" She dragged his face up with a fistful of hair.

  He caught a glimpse of green eyes, then his mouth was on hers again. He just wanted to kiss her. Forever. All over. To taste every inch of her skin.

  "Bishop," she gasped again, and this time he heard the protest.

  No. She was saying no. And if he were in his right mind, he'd be saying it too.

  It took everything he had in him to let go of her wrists. He couldn't even remember grabbing them. His cock ached, and somehow he let her slide down between his body and the building.

  He shoved away from her, breathing furiously. The curse had counteracted the crushing weight of his killing addiction, but he wasn't certain that was any better, for now he had the raging desire to slam her up against the wall and have his way with her. He could barely think of anything else.

  "Private rooms. Now," he growled. "Then fetch me some bloody ice, or cold water, or something."

  Before he lost his virginity in a back alley in the slums.

  * * *

  An hour later, Bishop still soaked in the small copper bath in Verity's spare set of rooms, gritting his teeth against the chill of the ice she kept dumping into the water. He didn't know where she was getting it from, but as she reappeared in the room again and again, he realized that not much could stop a sorcerer who didn't consider walls to be much of a hindrance.

  As the curse wore off, he finally began to realize something.

  He was naked.

  Oh, he'd been aware of that in a peripheral way—get her in the bath, against his wet, naked flesh, kiss her, drive her beneath him—but until now, he hadn't had the ability to consider the implications of that.

  She hadn't said a thing about the burn scars.

  Or the fact that his cock was trying to resemble the mainmast of a ship, despite his best attempts not to. Bishop pressed his hand to his temple. He still wanted to kill Zachariah. He also wanted to sink under the water and pretend she wasn't there to see this humiliation.

  "I'm sorry," Verity said, sitting on the edge of the bath and biting her lip. "I–I'm not used to working with another person, and I think I assumed you'd deflect the curse.... It all happened so quickly."

  Bishop dragged his knees up, trying to shield his nakedness. Heat flushed through his cheeks. What the hell kind of woman just sat there, as if they were talking about the weather over tea and scones, whilst he was naught but skin?

  "It's fine. I'm not used to people being able to teleport. You were between us, so it didn't occur to me that I'd be the one hit by the curse." No, he'd been about to fling a ward in front of her, trying to angle it correctly, to deflect the bloody curse.

  Unfortunately for him, Verity hadn't needed protection.

  "I just didn't want you to think that I tried to save my own skin at the expense of yours," she replied, and trailed her fingertips through the water, brushing them against a half-melted chunk of ice. Green eyes locked on his. "I'm not that kind of girl."

  And what kind of girl was she? Nostrils flaring, he leaned his head back against the bath. That way lay trouble. A muscle in his jaw throbbed. He was attracted to her. He couldn't deny that. But he had to keep his mind focused. The Order depended upon him. Drake depended on him.

  And with his father half-lost to the grief of losing a son last month, Bishop couldn't afford to think of his own needs. One more blow might shatter the man, though this morning had been the first time he'd seen his father halfway back to normal.

  "You wield an impressive weapon, Mr. Bishop."

  Good God, was she referring to— She was. He swallowed. "Miss Hawkins—"

  "Verity," she reminded him, looking all lazy and relaxed, like a cat. As though she weren't trailing her fingertips through the water of his bath.

  One last burst of the curse sank its hooks within him. He blinked and realized that he was holding on to her wrist, and couldn't remember when he'd moved. Their stares met. Verity seemed to be considering something, biting that lip again. That bloody lip. His vision glazed as it filled his vision until it was all he could see.

  "Please," he begged. "Please leave me alone, at least until this wears off."

  "I'm not going to take advantage of you," she said.

  "That's not what I'm afraid of." It was difficult to admit. And shameful.

  Verity's gaze softened as she searched his. "Most men I know wouldn't bother to try."

  "I'm not most men."

  "I know." Verity looked away. "I also wanted you to know that you didn't force that kiss in the alley. I wanted it."

  His breath exploded out of him. He'd needed that, he realized.

  She seemed to understand, as she stood and fetched him a towel. "Well, now. I'd say we've got at least an hour of this left in us, and then we might be able to go see Murphy. Something about what Zach said makes me uneasy. I'll go see what they're saying on the streets. Give you some privacy." She shot a glance over her shoulder as she turned to go, taking in every inch of him with an unabashed interest. "Just in case you do want to take care of that."

  Bishop smashed the water with his fist in frustration, sending a surge of it in her direction. Verity vanished with a squeal and a laugh, leaving him alone in a bath of ice water.

  Where, after some careful consideration, he did take care of "that."

  Chapter 4

  "FOLLOW MY LEAD, keep your mouth shut, and for God's sake, don't reveal your sorcery," Verity warned, dragging a fistful of her black crepe skirts up the rickety staircase at the back of the Grey Goose Inn. "Let me do the talking. Colin Murphy isn't a man who cares for sorcerers or their ilk, and he particularly dislikes challenges to his authority. You're on his turf now, so don't forget it."

  "As you wish," Bishop murmured.

  At the top of the stairs, Verity turned to see if he was mocking her. Those warm brown eyes met hers and Bishop graced her with a faint smile. It transformed his face from not quite handsome to extraordinary.

&nb
sp; And it quite stole her breath.

  "Your move," he reminded her, with a twitch of his dark brows. "You're in charge."

  Turning around, Verity knocked sharply on the door to Murphy's private rooms and then stepped inside as if she belonged. Which she did.

  Only... Verity's head lifted, taking in the removal of Murphy's landscapes that he'd painted himself, and the lack of furniture. His books were all gone too and the room reeked of... some kind of smoky scent, rather than the Irish whisky that Murphy liked to drink. Only a desk remained, and a handful of people were gathered around it. Nobody in the streets had been willing to admit they knew anything, which made her nervous, and now this.

  "Verity!" Mercy's voice was shocked as she saw them.

  "Merce," she said, noticing the signs of damage to the walls and the smear of black that had scorched the curling wallpaper. "What happened here?" That was when the crowd stepped back from the desk and she realized who was sitting behind it. "Guthrie, what are you doing? Where's Murphy?"

  Daniel Guthrie pushed his chair back, dark eyes flickering to Bishop at her side. "Thought you was dead."

  "Almost," she admitted warily, for she and Daniel shared a turbulent history. And nobody should be sitting in Murphy's chair like that. The old man would have a fit. But... there was no sign of him. Only Conrad's looming dark hulk, Betsy Gibbons in her array of bright red ruffles and painted lips, and whip-thin Nigel Cremorne, who you never dared take your eyes off. All three of them Murphy's inner circle, but splayed around Guthrie as if....

  As if leadership had changed.

  "Murphy's dead, Verity," Mercy said, stepping away from Guthrie for the first time, her long lanky legs swathed in their usual trousers. "The attack happened the night you vanished, right here in this room."

  The same day those... men... had tried to kill her. Mercy knew where she'd been and what she'd been up to, but Verity nodded vaguely, still reeling from the news. This was what Zach had meant. Murphy wasn't here to protect her anymore and Daniel... Daniel had his own grudges against her.