Invoking the Witch (The Faction Series Book 1)

by Lindsey Jayne

  “Fine. I’m going to bed.” She turned to Blake when he growled his approval. “Alone.”

  His shoulders sagged. But he stiffened, attempting to hide his disappointment.

  Amelia sauntered past him and he breathed her in, training his gaze on the supple skin of her smooth face. He caught her eye and held her focus while she strode out the door.

  “You can put your tongue away now, Blake, buddy. I don’t need to see you drooling over my boss,” Sam stated once Amelia walked out of earshot.

  Blake shot him a frozen look. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Dude, you might as well be wearing a freakin’ neon sign.”

  “What’s her deal?”

  Sighing, Sam leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “She’s letting this case consume her. She thought she’d have it wrapped up by now, but it’s moving too fast for her to come to terms with and a get a grip on.”

  “It’s not exactly a cut and dried case, though.” Blake took a seat in front of Sam.

  “She doesn’t see it like that. All her supernatural cases have been a breeze compared to this, and I think she was hoping it wouldn’t be any different. She knew the moment she saw the first body that it was so far beyond what she’s been used to. She won’t let anything come between her and solving this thing.”

  “Not even… ?”

  “No, mate, sorry. She likes you, but she’s scared to delve into anything in case it clouds her rational thinking.”

  “Then we’d better get this solved in double time, because the woman is driving me insane.”

  “I hear you, bro.”

  Blake stood, but rushed footsteps capture his attention before Amelia bolted back in.

  “Ember’s got a name off the vehicle,” she gasped.

  ∾∾∾

  I couldn’t sleep—afraid in case something else happened to me. My last nightmare seemed so real, the pain in my chest mimicked the pain I felt when the force hit me during my dream. I needed Deacon, needed to feel his touch, his warmth, his influence.

  Crawling out of bed, I decided to take a walk to calm my nerves. I put my dressing gown on and headed out the door.

  Barefoot, I padded toward the living area, but slowed as I neared the door. Voices came from the other side. I thought it sounded like Amelia, and I definitely heard Deacon’s voice. I quickened my pace. My heat beat faster and my stomach pitched.

  I tiptoed through the doors and found Deacon sat with Amelia, Blake, and two others I didn’t know. One, a man with messy brown hair, rather young-looking with tattoos and piercings.

  The other, a redheaded… girl?—she looked younger than me. Vampire for sure, I could tell by her purple eyes. Her body all but dripped off Deacon’s arm and my stomach lurched into my throat through pure, unadulterated jealousy. Until he shrugged her off.

  He seemed irritated by her, his shoulders tense, but she appeared oblivious to it while she pawed at him.

  Dressed like a hussy—short, black mini skirt, white knee-high socks with chunky, black heels and a tight-fitting, breast-enhancing white blouse—she looked every bit the part of an undead St Trinian, straight off some tacky movie set.

  Deacon straightened and cocked his head before he turned to look directly at me. My heart fluttered. A sudden spark of happiness and pure delight crossed his features and his eyes dazzled, catching mine in an all-encompassing stare. I felt my face heat all over again when I returned his smile.

  In a blink and miss it moment, he stood in front of me. He rubbed his hands up and down my arms. I closed my eyes against the comforting warmth.

  A faint growl erupted from the sofas and I knew it came from that skanky vampire. I opened my eyes to find Deacon’s gaze still on me, a gorgeous, dreamy half-smile plastered across his face.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  I shook my head. “Afraid the nightmares will come back.”

  “Do you want me to sit with you?”

  My widening eyes betrayed my approval, almost certain stars danced around them. I beamed at him. He returned my smile with one of equal affection and bent to place a gentle kiss on my forehead.

  Sparks ignited. I closed my eyes and let the feelings wash over me in a refreshing torrent of pleasure and yearning.

  “How cosy. A human, a vampire and a baby. Right little soap opera.”

  Damn vampire harlot! Why did she feel the need to open her stupid, fat, slutty mouth? What is her problem? Wanted Deacon and couldn’t have him? Jealous tart. Right then, I wouldn’t have minded if she burst into flames and burned to death right in front of my eyes.

  Angry much? The hate I felt pouring off her spilled toward me in droves and I imagined myself feeding off the potency. My stomach started to heat, a fire built up inside—dancing around while the blaze licked higher and higher.

  The blue flames from the pretty fireplace captured my attention. They danced about like an infusion of brightly-lit fireflies.

  “Shut the hell up, Ember, it’s got nothing to do with you?” Blake growled at her.

  “She’s a human, is all I’m saying. And she expects him to bring up another man’s brat?” She pointed a finger at me, but her eyes remained on Blake.

  The fire in my belly raged like someone threw petrol over it. Brat? Did she just call my unborn child a brat? A physical energy surged through me, my stomach bubbled and my brain sent electric pulses all through my body.

  A spark from the fire jumped onto Ember’s skin and ignited the sleeve of her shirt.

  She jumped, screaming, and flapped at her arm with her free hand in an attempt to put the flames out. I laughed, and Deacon swapped his gaze from me to her and back again. He looked at me in shock.

  It didn’t take long for Ember to put out the little pyrotechnic display on her arm. She snapped her head in my direction. Her eyes glazed over and her fangs dropped before she growled at me.

  “You bitch. This was my favourite blouse.”

  “Then I did you a favour, you trashy whore.” The words left my mouth before my brain engaged them. Where has this new attitude sprung from?

  Ember launched herself at me like a leaping gazelle before anyone could act. From behind, she grabbed me round the chest with one arm and yanked my head to the side with the other, baring my neck. Pain shot down my spine at the ferocity of her assault.

  Deacon, Blake, Amelia and the brown-haired guy all shouted ‘no’ before she plunged her fangs into my exposed flesh.

  Sharp agony pierced my senses and heat spread across my neck, and shoulders in a feverish flush.

  My body reacted in a second. I felt it—so surreal. A massive wave of energy surged from my stomach and bolted straight up my chest and down my arms. My body bucked and contracted with quick, violent spasms.

  I raised a hand to Ember’s face, grazing her head with my fingertips. A sizzling charge shot from my palm and slammed against her forehead. She flew backward and smashed into the wall with an audible grunt. The wall cracked under the pressure and Ember coughed as dust swirled her head.

  Deacon and Blake pounced on her.

  I stared at the scene in front of me, while Amelia joined my side. She snaked her arm around my waist and pulled me close.

  Ember lay on the floor, Deacon in her face while Blake held her down. Both of them bared their fangs, hissing and growling at Ember while she cowered beneath them. She looked scared—a true delight to see. But Deacon… he looked full of rage. Red-faced, he towered over Ember.

  Warm trickles of blood oozed their way down my neck and I clamped my hand over the wounds to stem the flow.

  Deacon looked up at Blake. “You and Sam get her out of here before I rip her fucking throat out.”

  His raised voice, with such raw emotion and authority, set my blood boiling in an entirely different way altogether. I couldn’t help it. My whole body came over in goose bumps and a pleasant tingle ran all the way down my spine and exploded in my core!

  Blake and Sam heaved a sobbing Ember off th
e floor and dragged her toward the main exit as she kicked and twisted in their grasp.

  With exposed fangs, she hissed and snapped at Sam. He head-butted the idiotic vampire and her nose erupted, spraying blood down her already stained, once-white shirt.

  I could hear Ember’s wailing from behind the doors while they went to throw her out.

  Deacon walked over to me and moved my hand away from my neck.

  Vampire saliva contained healing properties—my dad told me—but even with that knowledge and the raw state my emotions were in, when Deacon trailed his delicate tongue over the holes in my neck, I struggled to hold back the orgasmic scream begging to rip from my throat.

  My hand flew up to grab a tight hold on his muscular arm. My nails dug into his flesh while his tongue caressed my neck, so light it tickled, reaching the same places a lot of Deacon’s actions seemed to reach. For a brief moment, I almost forgot Amelia stood beside me—until she shifted and her arm left my waist.

  I pulled back from Deacon when Amelia stepped away. She looked a little embarrassed with rosy cheeks, and somewhat bewildered, which made my whole face burn, I imagine a deep shade of red.

  Deacon stole my gaze for a moment. His sparkling eyes met mine and crinkled behind his smirk. I ran my fingers across the area where Ember bit me—nothing, no puncture marks, and it appeared Deacon took it upon himself to rid me of the blood that oozed down my neck.

  I glanced back over at Amelia, still looking rather bemused. Deacon wore a similar expression and then it dawned on me—what just happened here? I didn’t remove Ember’s mouth from my neck by brute force, so how the hell did I do it?

  Chapter 12

  Amelia sat alone in her room going over what Ember discovered.

  The vampire ought to thank her lucky stars no-one ordered the final death for her after a stunt like that. Laws prohibited unprovoked human attacks, only rogue vampires—those who let the bloodlust consume them—were foolish and senseless enough to attack innocents. And they paid for their crimes.

  Lucas spoke to Ember’s superiors from her Faction; they would deal with her now.

  Before going bat-shit crazy, Ember told them the car outside Belinda Larkin’s house belonged to a woman named Laila Farris. Nothing of much interest could be found on her—no priors, no record. Amelia would send Sam and Chloe round in the morning to question her whereabouts, and why her car was seen outside a potential witness’s home.

  However, while the Laila Farris lead could prove fruitful, Amelia also harboured confused feelings over Elora’s display of power earlier that evening. Amelia assumed Ellie fell into the ‘normal human’ category, but now her mind ticked over.

  A knock at the door shook her from her distractions. She rose from the bed to answer it, then realised she forgot to lock it after her.

  Blake opened it a fraction. “Is it safe?” he asked—she heard the smile in his voice.

  “This time.” She offered her own smile back.

  “I just thought I’d come and see how you were after tonight’s episode.” He strode across to where Amelia stood by the bed in three swift paces.

  Amelia could tell from his heavy-lidded gaze, his reasons for standing in front of her now did not stop at checking on her frame of mind—nothing happened to her. Blake knew she could handle herself, being a police officer strengthened her resolve for such situations, so why the fabricated excuse?

  Raising her eyes to meet his, Amelia stared at him from under long lashes—her lips parted, breathing low. His warm breath swept across her, sending electrifying impulses all the way down to her aching core, the desire for him to touch her, potent.

  Blake brought his hand up to her face. He traced a gentle path across her bottom lip with his thumb. If his mere touch could induce an orgasm, she would’ve been a quivering mess of sexual energy right now.

  What the hell is happening to me? She tried to swallow when he moved his hand away. Turning instead—a distraction from his delicious stare—she bent over the bed and grabbed her papers and folders.

  Blake let out a distinct, low growl. She stood up upon gathering her files. Clutching them to her chest, she turned to face him—a slight smirk danced across her face knowing she caused his carnal reaction.

  “I’m fine, but that’s not why you’re here.” She raised her eyebrows at him and walked toward the wardrobe containing her bag.

  “You’re right, it’s not,” he uttered in a low, raspy voice heavy with desire.

  He stood right behind her—she could sense his body’s closeness, feel the raw heat emanating from him.

  “Down boy,” she whispered, her back still to him.

  He growled again.

  Amelia reached for the handle to pull the wardrobe door open, but Blake snaked his hand around her waist and slammed it shut.

  Turning to face him, files still held to her chest, she leaned back against the wood.

  “I suggest, Inspector, that you watch that pretty little mouth of yours. You may be the commanding officer where your team is concerned, but making demands of me has consequences.”

  She got under his skin—she knew it, he knew it. She recognised the sexual connotations oozing from his words when he leaned in close.

  His lips traced a feather-light caress against her ear.

  Before he could open his mouth, Amelia spoke, “I love a challenge, Ace.”

  He pressed his body so close to her, she felt his immediate reaction—his concrete erection pressed into her thigh. She suppressed the moan caught in her throat.

  He brought his face back to meet hers—his eyes stared at her parted lips. Flicking her tongue over to moisten them, she heard Blake’s breathing waver.

  “Blake… ,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

  “Yeah?” he responded on a breath.

  Amelia struggled with her words. She knew what she wanted to say, but felt afraid to. She desperately needed to feel the touch of his lips on hers, but she owed Blake her undivided affections. She couldn’t give him that right now, her judgment, her thinking, both clouded because of the case. If anything happened tonight it would be through sheer frustration—a heat of the moment response brought on by something other than their feelings for one another.

  “I can’t… not yet.” Amelia placed a hand on his chest.

  A low rumble escaped him when he closed his eyes, resting his forehead on hers.

  “I’m sorry, I want—”

  He silenced her with a finger pressed gently to her lips. “I understand… I’ll wait.”

  With a blur of flesh and fabric, he disappeared out the door.

  ∾∾∾

  Amelia awoke the next morning feeling anything but refreshed. She opened her eyes, but didn’t move for more than ten minutes while she stared at the ceiling in contemplation.

  The potential suspect in their sights faded into the background; Amelia couldn’t get past the previous night’s events with Blake.

  Excitement about Laila Farris paled in comparison, and it shouldn’t—she needed to focus on the case.

  She remembered Blake’s reaction to her refusal, his promise to wait for her. Lust and longing hummed through her body when those words floated from his lips, full of desire. But this morning, in the cold light of day, she felt… confused, distracted.

  The shrill ring of her phone stunned her to her senses. Grabbing it, she looked down at the caller—Sam.

  Swiping the screen, she answered, “What’s up, Chapman?”

  “We may have a slight issue, ma’am.”

  Amelia closed her eyes and held in the frustrated sigh threatening to come out. “Yes… ?”

  “A Miss Laila Farris called the station this morning to report her car stolen.”

  “What?!” Amelia sat bolt upright. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  “I wish I was, ma’am. She rang the office first thing. Reception alerted Thomas after the name rang a bell. I’ve just got off the phone to HQ.”

  The timing is one hell of a co
incidence. But if it really did turn out to be car theft, and Laila’s involvement with these murders happened to be wishful thinking, then she wanted to be focusing her energy into finding the next clue. “You and Roberts go interview her, see what she has to say for herself. And Chapman, I still wanna know about her whereabouts. She could be lying.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am. I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  Amelia hung up, threw her phone on the bed and ran her hands through her messy hair, leaning back against the headboard. Great, just what I need—another potential dead end.

  They needed a small miracle. They needed to find Belinda and Madison Rose before the death toll mounted. She would spend her day at the station searching for any information that might suggest where Belinda and Madison Rose might be hiding—friends, relatives, colleagues, anything.

  ∾∾∾

  My own company grew real old, real fast. Deacon stayed throughout the night, worrying over me after psycho vamp sank her fangs into my neck, but he left before morning to rest. Work occupied Dad’s time—though he visited me again after hearing what happened. I tried to call Alice, only to be put through to voicemail. I refrained from leaving a message, though—I didn’t want to worry her, I’d see her soon.

  I needed somewhere other than the confines of my room to wrap my head around the events of the past couple of days—I could feel changes going on within my body, but I couldn’t fathom them out at all and it drove me crazy. Not to mention it scared the crap out of me.

  Walking up and down the same spot in my room, wearing holes in the plush carpet, proved to be getting me exactly nowhere.

  My instructions were not to leave the premises, but dad suggested my stay here extended to the gardens housed within the Compound’s huge, secured perimeter walls. If I happened to misinterpret, tough, because I needed some fresh air.

  The gorgeous sun shone through the window, bright and warm, so I decided a coat unnecessary over my loose, cherry coloured, summer dress. I put a pair of white, flat pumps on, grabbed a book I borrowed from the Compound’s library and waddled my way into the corridor.

  I rubbed my growing belly—it felt real heavy now and I knew my little girl wouldn’t be in there too much longer. It took my breath away watching the life inside me stretch and kick—I could watch for hours and still not believe a little person grew in there.