A Witch's Dark Craving (A Distant Edge Romance Book 2)

by Chloe Adler

  "I know, it's fine. For now we can use a piece of cheesecloth and tie it around your neck."

  "I'll look like a moron," I whined.

  "We'll hide it under your clothes. And if it works, we can get you a proper one. Okay?"

  "Okay." My head was spinning. I grasped the table to quiet the rush of blood.

  "Now we stand," Iphi ordered in her tiny, incongruously powerful voice.

  She handed me the matches and waited while I lit four of the candles from east to north, leaving the top of the pentacle unlit. When the last candle was lit, she handed me a small shaker of salt, a tiny bottle of water with a hole in the rubber lid and a lit stick of incense. I tucked the water and salt into a pocket and held the incense.

  Walking to the east side of the kitchen, Iphi motioned for me to join her. She clasped my hand, unsheathed her athame and pointed it upward and then down to salute the sky and the earth. She paused and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  "With salt and water, I purify the east," I called out, handing the incense to Iphi and then drawing the salt and water in turn and shaking three drops of each onto the floor.

  "Hail, guardians, watchtowers of the east . . ." she began.

  As she called in the four directions and we walked slowly around the kitchen, both Iphi and I drew the invoking pentagram in the air, she with her athame and me with the incense at each cardinal point. I kept consecrating the earth with the salt and water but we never let go of each other's hand.

  At the last trace of the circle, Iphi touched her athame to the herbs at the center of the table.

  "The circle has been cast. We stand between the world in darkness and in light. Here we remain until our work is done," Iphi called out, her voice taking on a commanding tone.

  She had to turn and look at me again with raised brows before I remembered to put the incense in the holder, remove the candle closest to the north and light the candle at the top of the pentacle.

  "With the fire lit and burning bright, we are one. Let the ritual begin," I said, the words returning to me in a flash.

  Iphi leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, as it was customary to pass a kiss around the circle. She let go of my hand then and busied herself over the poultice. The herbs were crushed but she reached over for that jar of viscous liquid and uncapped it. The sweet flavor of molasses and roses filled the room. It was almost cloying. Almost.

  She bent and shook out one drop over the herbs, reciting Latin in a low voice. I couldn't understand what she was saying and I could barely even hear her. Returning to a standing position, she bundled it all up and tied a cord around it.

  "Bend forward," she told me.

  I bent down. "Wait, I thought you were going to teach me how to use my powers."

  "First we have to make sure they can be controlled," Iphi said as she tied the amulet loosely around my neck.

  She pulled it up and cupped her hands around it, reciting more Latin. As she spoke, the candles brightened, the flames shooting up about a foot.

  Iphi nodded. "There," she said and tucked the poultice into my sweatshirt.

  "And how are we going to know if this worked?" I asked her.

  "We'll have to get you angry."

  A small laugh escaped. "How do you plan on doing that?"

  "Easy, we'll go visit Sadie."

  I snorted.

  "Oh, and while we have the circle cast . . ." Iphi said.

  "Yes?"

  She grabbed both of my hands in hers and started reciting another incantation. This one was in Latin too but it was longer, more involved. I wanted to ask her what she was doing, but when kitchen items lifted up and started swirling around, I was too surprised to speak. I had no idea Iphi was this powerful. My mouth gaped open as the items in the kitchen began cleaning up the mess I'd accidentally created two days before.

  Things swirled faster and faster. I couldn't watch them without feeling dizzy. Drawers, cupboards and closets opened and slammed shut again. A few moments after that, Iphi let go of my hands. The kitchen, save the items used in the ritual, was sparkling clean.

  "How?" I asked her.

  She winked at me. Great, not her too.

  I stood in my room, looking at myself in the full-length mirror Burgundy had installed for me. The light from my windows caught the nondescript hues of my hair. Brown, brown and more brown. So much had changed for me in the few days since I'd moved in--internally, anyway, so why not externally too? Perhaps Burgundy's all-too-hip sense of style was influencing me. I didn't own any cute clothes, something I'd never cared about before. Then there was the issue of my hair. I lifted a strand, held it up to the light and dropped it. No variations of color. Drab and boring. Like my clothes. Like me. I was drab and boring. It was time I faced that fact.

  Sighing loudly, feeling sorry for myself, I walked over to the far wall below the window, the area I had designated for painting. When the room had been Sadie's, she'd kept a vanity there. I'd replaced it with a drop cloth spread out on the floor, my adjustable easel and a stool.

  Slowly, I mixed my paints and spread everything out on the small white table I used.

  At least I could still paint. I was behind on an assignment from my portrait class: paint someone the way I saw them, not the way they really looked.

  I had chosen the portrait class because that was my passion, painting people's faces. I probably should have taken classes that focused on what I didn't know. Landscapes. Figures. Truth was that I could paint anything but I didn't want to. I wanted to paint faces.

  It was dark outside when I heard a knock on my bedroom door. For me, painting was like being in a trance. Like meditation, but so much better. Not that I'd ever tried meditation before. That was more of an Iphi thing.

  "Who is it?" I asked.

  "It's me." Jared's voice always sounded like sugar and honey.

  "Come in," I called, leaning back to look out the window.

  The door opened and he crossed the few feet to stand behind me, gasping.

  "What?" I looked up, blinking my eyes rapidly.

  "That." He pointed at the canvas.

  I turned back to look at it. My paintbrush clattered to the floor. "Umm . . ." I was at a loss for words.

  "Him," Jared said, apparently experiencing the same loss.

  Staring at us from the canvas was Carter. Except it wasn't Carter. Outwardly, it looked like him but on closer inspection, it looked . . . different.

  "I don't know what to say, Chrys. How do you . . . do that?"

  Carter's hair, which I'd managed to capture perfectly in all of its glorious shades of brown, shone with burnt umber, Van Dyke brown and brown madder mixed with hints of Renaissance gold. His eyes, too, were almost a perfect match to the real thing, replete with specs of gold and copper. But there was something disconcerting about the way I'd painted them and the crook of his mouth. Those lips were full and luscious with dabs of transparent red ochre, but they didn't look kissable. I chanced another look at Jared. His eyebrows were knitted together. Did he see it too, the way Carter looked unapproachable? A darkness hidden just below the surface.

  The representation was eerie, disconcerting. You could almost see into his soul and I wasn't sure I liked what was there.

  Jared looked from the canvas to me and back again.

  "Fuck, girl, you are talented, but there's something sinister in your portrayal."

  He did see it. My gaze flicked upward as I tossed my hair.

  "Okay, whatever," he said, recovering. "I'm here on Burgundy's command to bring you to The V Club."

  "No way, I am not going there."

  "You don't have a choice." His smile betrayed him. He was enjoying this.

  "I most certainly do." I crossed my arms over my chest, prepared to wait him out.

  "She said she'd tell Sadie about your make-out session with said vampire." He looked back at the painting.

  My face instantly heated. "Not fair."

  "Nope, honey, it isn't. But if you didn't have a sec
ret, she wouldn't be able to manipulate you." He leaned over, lightly scratching a paint splotch off my temple. "Okay," he said, clapping his hands together, "let's see what you've got to wear. She said I have to make you look presentable."

  Burying my head in my hands, I wished for instant death. That was surely better than whatever Burgundy had in mind for me.

  Jared walked over to the large walk-in closet and flung open the doors with gusto. He stood there for a moment, looking from left to right and then back again before turning around with his jaw open.

  "Where are your clothes?" He was serious.

  "Right there." I motioned to the closet with a flick of my wrist.

  He entered the room, pulled a shirt from the hangar and said, "These are not clothes, Chrys. Everything in here--like all five items--is loungewear."

  Walking back into my bedroom he moved to my dark wooden dresser, where he opened and closed drawers rapidly.

  "Jeans, underwear--and unflattering ones at that." He picked up a pair of my briefs and tossed them on the bed. "Nightgowns that look like the kind my great-grandmother wore. And socks. Yeah, no."

  Jared grabbed me by the arm and marched me out of my room and into the master suite across the hall. Burgundy's room. The last time I'd been in it, I had been passed out and not in the right frame of mind to notice anything. Wow. The vampire had taste. I sucked in my breath.

  Her bed was king sized and elevated with a red lace canopy. The duvet was dark red velvet and matched the couch in our living room. Her furniture was all antiques, dark mahogany and rosewood. There were lush wall hangings and rugs in shades of dark red and burgundy. Of course. A laugh escaped me.

  Jared was still tugging on me and I let myself get dragged to her closet, which was partially open. Layers of clothing peeked out.

  "Yeah, you should probably loan her part of your closet," he said as he opened the door.

  Burgundy had so many items of clothing that my head did a little dance. "I wouldn't know where to start. Besides, we are not the same size."

  "She has plenty of one size fits all. Plus, that girl doesn't throw anything away; we can find something here from her less endowed days."

  He started pushing and pulling at the clothing. My brain turned completely off. I didn't even know if he was looking at dresses or skirts, pants or shirts. It all blended together in a cacophony of lace, velvet and crinoline.

  "Go sit down," Jared instructed.

  I walked back and plopped onto the side of the bed, though I had to hoist myself up first. She must have a pillow top because my body sunk down, the tension bleeding out like an un-clotted vampire bite.

  Several minutes later Jared marched back with a myriad of items slung over his arm.

  "Stand." He caressed the sides of his own body with his hands, wriggling his hips, and I giggled, hopping up.

  He held each outfit up to my frame, either nodding and putting it on the bed or shaking his head no and tossing it on the floor.

  Four hours later--literally, four hours--I was teetering after Jared down the driveway. When had the driveway become so steep?

  "Hurry up, it's almost midnight," Jared called back to me.

  "I didn't want to go in the first place," I said, grinding my teeth together so hard that my jaw hurt.

  He opened the door to his Mini Cooper and motioned me inside.

  As I slid into the passenger seat, I caught a glimpse of myself in the side mirror, which was emblazoned with checkers for some reason.

  I did not recognize what I saw in that mirror. That could not be me. My hair was down--and so long. I wasn't used to that. And it was stylishly curled. My eyes were smoky, dark and mysterious. My lips were voluminous and painted a dark purple that matched the dress Jared had made me wear. Was that cleavage? I was getting out of the car but he pushed me back inside and slammed the door. I glared at him through the window as he wagged a finger at me.

  I didn't want to go. Was it too late to change my mind? I briefly considered jumping out of the moving vehicle and then thought better of it. Imagining the duck and roll I'd have to initiate, I was sure my head would crack open on the asphalt instead. There would be deep scrapes, missing skin, bruising and with my luck, I'd live through it all.

  Jared had insisted I remove the cheesecloth amulet as it didn't go with my outfit. He said he'd keep an eye on me and whisk me out if anything went wrong.

  "You're being too quiet," Jared said, looking over at me from the driver's seat. "That worried?"

  I nodded, too afraid to speak, and pulled down the visor.

  "You look great." his voice was deep and soothing as he reached over and flipped the visor shut.

  Out of habit, my hand reached up to smooth my ponytail but it wasn't there.

  I turned to face him. "I've changed my mind, drive me back home."

  "No can do." He chuckled.

  "Bastard," I mumbled under my breath.

  "Really?" he responded. "I like the new Chrys."

  My nostrils flared. "Oh. Do. Not. Piss. Me. Off." Spark.

  Jared reached into his pocket and flung the amulet over. It landed in my lap.

  "Why not?"

  "You're trying to?"

  "Maybe." He grinned toothily. "Still want to go home? Like how I'm distracting you?"

  "Damn." Heat rose, I couldn't stop it. Even though I knew he was playing me, I could not get my emotions under control. Flare.

  ZAP.

  Had I blown the tire? But the car stayed on course. Jared looked over at me with wide eyes as smoke fizzled in a cloud around me.

  "Did you do something?" he asked.

  "I don't know." Curiosity replaced my anger.

  Jared pulled over, got out and looked around the car as I pretzeled toward the back seat, trying to find the source of the smoke.

  He came over to the passenger side and opened my door. The smoke wafted out with the motion, a thin line emanating from . . . me?

  We both followed the stream of smoke to my belly button.

  "It's coming from you."

  Chapter Eight

  Well after midnight, The V Club was in full swing. The minute I entered, I was itching to leave. There I was, dressed to the nines in an outfit that was too tight. I adjusted myself to no avail. Pulling and tucking, shifting and sucking, squeezing and thrusting. My loose hair fell uncomfortably over my face, tickling my nose as I blew it away. With hundreds of people and writhing bodies, thankfully, no one noticed my entrance.

  Jared grabbed my arm and walked me over to the bar. "Let's get a drink," he yelled over the music. Techno, of course.

  I couldn't focus on anything. Red lights strobed, casting long shadows on the blackened walls. I let him lead me, trying to focus on the destination. There was too much eye candy. Too many distractions. Too much happening all at once. And the smells. Everything was jumbled together. Strawberries. Alcohol. Cheap cologne. My senses were being accosted from all directions, and if Jared hadn't been pulling on me, I would have turned and fled.

  Upon reaching our destination, he pulled out a barstool and patted it. There was only one available. I was grateful that he was taking care of me because in that moment I could not take care of myself. I sat down and Jared waved at the bartender at the other end of the bar. It saw was Carter. Of course.

  "Hey, Jared," he said, smiling at me and then turning back to my friend and lowering his voice. "Bringing a gorgeous woman into the club? I hope you're her chaperone. The way everyone is staring at her, they may try to eat her alive."

  Heat flashed through me, reddening my face. Thankfully, it was well hidden in the darkness and flashing lights. "Still talking about me in the third person?" Wow, where had that audacity come from?

  "Chrys?" Carter's mouth dropped open.

  I held his gaze when all I wanted to do was run to the bathroom, scrub my face, cover my chest and return my hair to its proper place. Instead, I jutted my chin out.

  "Oh. My. God." Carter's voice took on a breathy quality that I
could barely hear over the thumping music. "You look . . . amazing."

  "So I looked like crap before?" It was out of my mouth before I had time to think and he flinched.

  "Chrys, I didn't mean--"

  I held my hand up and he stopped. "I know," I said, offering him a tentative smile. "I'm just not used to . . ." My hand gestured down my body.

  Carter whistled and then held his hand out to mine, letting it hang in the air, waiting for my permission.

  I lightly placed my hand in his but only for a moment. He let me go without comment. "Would you like to dance, milady?"

  "You're working," I said numbly.

  "I'll cover for you," Jared said, offering both of us a deep grin.

  At home on the dance floor, my body moved rhythmically. There was no room for thought, just action. Carter had the moves, gyrating with the tempo. He let me set the rhythm and followed my moves, integrating his own. I kept my eyes trained downward, afraid to meet his intense gaze and even more afraid to look at the other bodies--or worse, the strippers.

  Waving a hand in front of me, Carter forced me to look up, meeting those dark, almost black, eyes.

  He leaned toward my ear, whispering, "Can we go talk for a minute?"

  "Sure." Then I nodded because he probably couldn't hear me over the din.

  Reaching for my hand but not grabbing it, he motioned for me to follow him off the dance floor, out of the main room and down a long hallway. Where we were going? As we passed doorways on either side of the hall, moans and gasps of pleasure reached my ears. I stiffened and stopped walking.

  "What's going on?"

  He motioned nonchalantly to the doorways, veiled with black-beaded curtains. "People are having sex. That's what they do here." He looked at me with confusion. "You don't know what happens at The V Club?"

  "Hell, no. My first time is definitely not going to be in public." I turned to leave.

  "Your first time?"

  Oh crap. Placing my hands on my hips I faced him again. My jaw hurt, clenching and unclenching my teeth.

  "I wasn't bringing you here to have sex, Chrys," he whispered.