by Danica Avet
Izzy rolled her eyes, but held her tongue since Glenda seemed really miffed. Apparently being blunt only took you so far. Go figure.
“You could,” the witch replied slowly, her eyes on Izzy, “but it wouldn’t be wise. The spell on the Amazon has been in place for several weeks.”
“What.” Izzy’s humor faded as she frowned at the witch. “That’s impossible. I just got here a couple of days ago.”
Glenda shrugged. “That’s what I sense. The terror spell is firmly attached. You’ve had it for long enough that any attempt to remove it would kill you. The memory spell on the minotaur is newer, less…set in stone.”
“Does that mean I might regain my memories if enough time has passed?” Grant demanded before Izzy could ask Glenda what the fuck she was talking about.
She nodded her silver head. “Naturally. It would take days, possibly even weeks though.”
“Shit.”
“Times two,” Izzy agreed as she wondered where she’d picked up a friggin’ terror spell from. She massaged her temples. “Is that all you can tell us?”
Glenda and Duffy glanced at each other, unspoken words passing between them. After a few seconds, Izzy was ready to scream when Glenda turned back.
“If there’s a warmage involved in this…whatever this is, then watch your back. The spells are just the beginning of the game for them.”
Well, duh. Izzy could’ve told them that, but once again bit her lip. Maybe she was learning self-control after all? It was a real bitch, that was for sure. All that restraining herself from jumping in with both feet. She sighed as Grant said their farewells.
Once outside the bar again, Izzy stared up at the gray sky. Thick clouds on the horizon spoke of more snow. Yay, snow. Not.
Grant was already at the truck, opening the passenger door for her. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but she suspected he’d do it anyway. Heaving another heavy sigh, she trudged to the truck.
Once they were on their way back to the ranch, Grant broke the tense silence in the cab.
“Where do you think you picked up the spell?”
“I don’t know,” she said on a sigh after several minutes of contemplation. “I was involved in a lot of assignments back home before I was sent here. None of them involved warmages, but it isn’t impossible for a mage to cast a spell from a distance.” She gnawed on one of her fingernails thoughtfully. “What I don’t like is that the same warmage who got me, got you. The chances of that happening are astronomical.”
He was frowning at the windshield, his hands steady and sure on the steering wheel.
Izzy sighed and looked out her window. Yeah, he probably thought she’d pissed someone off. That’s when she remembered a very small, insignificant incident that happened three days before her exile went into effect.
She must have tensed because Grant looked over at her. “What?”
“Before I left home, I went to a party with my sisters. I drank a little too much and spent half the night being chatted up by a werewolf.” She could feel him glaring at her, but she was too caught up in her fuzzy memories to care. “Rosetta told me there was a dryad who glared at me all night. I didn’t think anything of it until now, but it’s possible she might have bought a spell to use against me.”
Grant didn’t say a word, although with the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, she didn’t think she needed him to speak. Shrugging off his moodiness, she frowned in thought.
“It’s entirely possible this warmage is a spell caster for hire,” she mused out loud. “That would make a lot of sense, actually. He wouldn’t give a shit who he waylaid with a spell and he’d be more mobile than someone with a vendetta.” That damned dryad! “I should’ve kicked that little dryad’s ass.”
“Why? Because you wanted the werewolf all for yourself?”
Izzy’s head whipped around so fast, she hurt her neck. “What?”
That’s when she saw the jealousy in Grant’s face. His eyes had bled to black and his nostrils flared around his ring. He was so hot! She shook her head.
“I was thinking more along the lines that the little bitch fucked me over with a spell,” she told him drily. Really, as if she’d want a werewolf! She snorted. No, the only shapeshifter she had on her mind was one she couldn’t have.
He didn’t look appeased, but at least he didn’t pursue the subject further. It wasn’t like she was happy about the situation herself. Some stupid, jealous dryad had taken her one, secret fear and turned it into a debilitating weakness. She cracked her knuckles. Oh, yeah, when she got home…
Chapter Seventeen
It was damned hard to keep from snatching Isola close and showing her exactly who she belonged to. If she’d been any other woman, he might’ve done exactly that, but she was an Amazon with an attitude. She’d knock his head off if she knew what he was thinking.
It wasn’t easy, though. Just the thought of her flirting out of boredom with another male was enough to make him see red. The logical part of his brain understood she hadn’t told him to make him jealous, she’d just wanted to explain where her thoughts were headed. He got that. He didn’t have to like it though.
The rest of the ride to his house was silent and, on his part, angry. Isola seemed wonderfully oblivious to his mood, or she was just ignoring him. Sliding a look at her, he decided on the latter. She was very good at pretending she didn’t know he was sitting next to her and that annoyed the shit out of him.
Braking in front of his house harder than he needed to, he ignored the indignant glare she sent him. Yeah, he was in a bad mood.
“I need to do some chores,” he muttered as he slammed the truck door closed. “I should be back in a couple of hours.”
Without waiting for her to respond, he headed for the barn at the back of his property. He needed some alone time where a man could think.
A few hours turned into most of the night because he couldn’t bring himself to go near her yet. The need to conquer and possess rode him hard, warring with his logic. Even banging tools and equipment around didn’t help much and Grant had a feeling that the only that would make this need go away was to make Isola his own. Permanently.
* * * *
The next day, Izzy had to admit she was bored out of her mind. When Grant had taken off for his barn, he hadn’t appeared until nearly dawn. She’d gone to check on him a couple of times, but all the banging and cursing in the wooden building told her he was working. Now, whether he’d been working on an actual task or working off his moodiness, she couldn’t tell, but she’d left him alone. And people said she didn’t know how to give others space.
It hadn’t been easy though. Really. Like this morning. When she’d stumbled into the living area, Grant was there looking as sexy and edible as ever. His smile had been a little tighter than usual, but it wasn’t enough for her to make a big deal out of it. Actually, there were so many things she liked about him, she wouldn’t have minded if he had glared at her all day.
Because the minotaur was too fucking cute. For instance, he cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner and didn’t expect her to help, which she wouldn’t have done anyway. Her idea of cooking was to grab a dozen candy bars and chow down. At home, food was cooked by the men paying their tithes and she never had to go near the cooking fire except to eat. It didn’t hurt that Grant was also a great chef. She called him a chef because Grant managed to cook meals without meat and made them so good she didn’t even notice the lack.
Rosetta would laugh her ass off if she could see Izzy now.
Then, as if it wasn’t bad enough that Grant was like this cooking guru, he was a hard worker. All day long, he’d sat in front of his laptop with his reading glasses perched on his nose and gone over expense reports, assignment case files, and the schematics of the upcoming Ball. Those glasses made him look like a naughty professor, and it took considerable willpower not to ask him to spank her. She shook her head and concentrated on something else.
She…admired h
im. He was smart, efficient, and good-natured. She liked the way he dealt with his employees, being both stern and friendly. That assistant of his seemed too friendly in Izzy’s opinion, but Grant didn’t notice, so she didn’t say anything.
Flipping through television stations, Izzy felt like a complete slacker compared to the minotaur. Of course, she was constantly fighting a raging case of lust, but that didn’t count for much compared to his accomplishments. He was a business owner, a very successful one who also kept his ranch in tip-top shape. She had trouble keeping up with oil changes on her car. She’d never thought herself as lacking in anything before, but she hadn’t met someone like Grant before either.
Irritated at her thoughts, she tossed the remote to the side. Grant was on the phone with one of his employees.
She was so fucking bored!
She really wanted to take care of the itch being around Grant gave her. She was so fucking horny, she felt like a teenage boy on prom night. It was pathetic!
Izzy eyed the room she considered hers. Her BOB was in there…if she could get Grant out of the house for a little while, she could handle up on this lust. Her nipples tingled at the thought of an orgasm. It wouldn’t be the same as getting an orgasm from Grant, but sometimes a girl had to make do with what she had at…her hand. But she needed Grant to leave. Izzy was loud when she was feeling perfectly fine. She was a screamer when she had an orgasm.
So without fulfillment, she met Grant for lunch, trying to ignore how attractive he was and how much she wanted to go all cowgirl on him. The food was good, of course, but later, sitting across from Grant, she couldn’t remember a thing she ate.
Grant shifted in his recliner, the same recliner he’d masturbated in three days before, not that she was thinking of it or anything. He wore those reading glasses perched on his nose as they tried to find a link between the kidnapping attempt and his company’s winning bid. The stubborn bull seemed to think that was the only reason someone would want to hurt him.
Izzy knew better though. If the person after him was who she thought he was, Grant only had to have a passing acquaintance with someone of power and he’d be a target. Of course, being the owner of the security company in charge of the Ball meant Grant was in a very important position. He’d have the lives of some of the most prominent Veilerians in his care. That would be enough to make Ormond cream his pants.
She couldn’t tell Grant any of that though. She’d taken an oath to keep any information she heard to herself and her word was her bond, which was why this bet killed her. If she slipped just once and begged Grant to do all the naughty things she kept thinking about, he’d have her.
Shaking her head to clear it of yet another thought about Grant, his tongue, and her body, Izzy did her best to concentrate on the list, but a thought kept recurring.
Looking up at Grant, who was even hotter with the reading glasses on his nose, she asked, “What about your employees? The guys you were drinking with that night?”
He put the papers he was looking over down, slipping the glasses off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yeah,” he said on a yawn. “I thought of that. There were four of us there that night, but they went out on assignment the next morning and it isn’t the kind of job that will allow me to call. I have to wait for them to come back from the field.” He stretched before settling back in his chair.
“How long are we talking here?”
“Let me think,” he yawned again, scratching his jaw. “They’re providing backup security for some vamp who works for a band. They’re touring right now, so it’ll probably be a few months before they get back.”
Izzy slumped. “Yeah, that is so not gonna help us here. Are you sure you can’t call them?”
The look he gave her suggested she have her head examined. “I’m not going to pull those guys off the job just because some nymphs tried to kidnap me.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “We’ll just wait to talk to Duffy.”
“Joy.” Yeah, more waiting. She hated waiting.
“Have you heard from your Cajun friend?” he asked offhandedly, though there was a deep current beneath his voice as though he really cared how she answered.
“Nah, it’ll take him a couple of days to locate everyone and then they’ll have to get together to chat before they decide anything.”
“I see.”
The sound of his hand rasping across his jaw made her nipples tighten in spite of her worry. She was jonesing for the minotaur in a bad way. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her arousal. Damned bull.
The phone rang, breaking the tension. Grant reached over to answer it and Izzy breathed a sigh of relief. She was so going to take a break with BOB sometime today. As soon as the minotaur left the house, she promised her raging hormones.
“Strickland.”
Izzy could hear the panicked sound of a woman talking, more like shrieking, on the other end of the phone. Grant sighed deeply, swiping a hand over his face.
“Yeah, Ma.”
He paused, flicking a glance at Izzy that she couldn’t decipher. “Uh-huh.”
“I don’t know if I can—” He sighed deeply, getting to his feet to pace around the living room.
Izzy pretended to study the list when in fact she was staring at his tight ass as he stalked in front of her. Her mouth watered. He had the kind of ass meant to be gripped while he was pounding between a woman’s legs. Hello, nurse, she thought with an inward sigh. No, no! Bad Izzy!
“Fine, fine, I’ll be there in a little while,” he sighed into the mouthpiece, irritation evident in his tone. “Tell Dad we’ll talk about this when I come over.”
He faced away from her, one hand on his hip as he wrapped up his conversation. Light blue denim was meant to be worn by this male. Humming to herself, her mind positively swimming with images of what she could do to that ass, Izzy was slow to respond when Grant turned to face her.
If she had been paying attention, she might’ve been able to control her expression. As it turned out, her gaze was level with the bulge in the front of his jeans that seemed to grow right before her eyes. Her body was flooded with liquid heat. Mm, mm, she thought, licking her lips. His mama might be a bitch, but she made one helluva stud.
“…going to my dad’s ranch, do you want to come?”
“Come? Oh yeah…” she moaned, biting her bottom lip.
Grant’s body went completely still, though she could hear his breathing speed up. Her own heartbeat increased until they were both panting. Sweat gathered along her hairline as she watched that denim-covered cock move towards her. Oh yes, come to Izzy.
He stopped several feet away from her with a surprised laugh. The laughter yanked Izzy out of her absorption with his tackle and she raised her eyes. Grant’s gaze was still hungry, though there was an underlying thread of amusement in his baby blues. “Did you just say ‘Come to Izzy?’”
Gods, it was really hot all of a sudden. Oh, no, it wasn’t hot, she was fucking blushing like a schoolgirl! “No, I said ‘she’d have a hissy,’” Izzy said easily. Sometimes it was a good thing to be a bullshitter, except apparently when dealing with bulls because Grant laughed harder.
“Dude, seriously, go to your mama and leave me in peace,” she insisted.
They stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours to Izzy, but couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. It was never a good thing to back away from a shifter unless you wanted to give them the right to walk all over you, and Izzy was no one’s doormat. Maybe in Grant’s case, she’d let him use her as a sex toy, but not a doormat. She’d seen too many good women ruined that way.
“When I get back, you and I are going to have a serious talk,” Grant warned, his gaze holding hers as he traversed the room to the hook in the wall his keys dangled from.
“I hate talking,” Izzy mumbled, not really lying. She hated talking when it actually meant anything. Senseless, meaningless conversation? She was so there, but when things were important, sh
e was more of a doer. Which was probably one of the reasons she had control problems, she thought ironically.
“Then I’ll do the talking and you do the listening, but we’re going to work some things out,” he insisted as he shrugged into a light jacket. Keeping his eyes on hers, he adjusted his cock in his jeans, sending the flames in her body even higher. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise.”
With that cocky comment and a devastating smile, he was gone before she could reply. Izzy heard his truck start and snow crunch as he pulled away from the house. Sitting on the sofa in the quiet, she peered around. He was a security expert. She knew he had cameras in the house, and she wanted to find them before she looked for relief because she wouldn’t put it past the bull to spy on her while she played.
Seeing nothing obvious, she came to her feet to wander around the house not so aimlessly. She found five cameras in the living room alone, two in the kitchen, one in the small hallway leading to the bathroom, and several hidden under the eaves of the veranda that wrapped around the house. But she wasn’t too worried about those. Oh no, she wanted to make sure she had privacy in her room.
Sauntering back inside, she savored the warmth of the house and entered her room. She studied every nook and cranny, all the bric-a-brac that she suspected might hold a camera, but found nothing. Standing next to her duffle bag, she slapped her hands on her hips. She could just bypass the little pleasure session, but she needed relief. Grant had her so revved up she suspected just imagining what it would be like to have him inside her would set her off.
A smile of anticipation curved her lips as she opened her bag. BOB was probably going to need new batteries after she was finished with it.
Izzy frowned a bit. It wasn’t where she normally packed it. It had to have rolled to the bottom of the bag while in transit. She threw the duffle bag on the bed and upended it. Clothes, weapons, toiletries, and shoes poured out of the bag. But no BOB.
Her heart seized for a short moment. “No,” she mumbled as she sorted through her clothes and shoes. “It has to be here.” But no matter how much she tore her bag apart, there was no BOB.
