by Shelly Bell
He pulled away and searched my face, his gray stormy eyes smiling before his sexy, swollen lips. “Challenge accepted.” And with a wink he descended on my lips again. His fingers tightened in my hair and pulled. What should have been pain sent me flying, set me on fire.
“I’m clean,” I promised.
“Me, too.”
I stopped fighting him, stopped fighting the attraction. My body took over, my mind soared like a kite. Everything felt heightened. Every touch caressed my entire body. “Let’s go,” I gasped.
Somehow we managed to shut off the lights and stumble out the door. The sounds of the night grew around us, the air felt heavier. The smell of him buried itself in my nose, my lungs. His image was burned on the back of my eyelids. Need.
“My place,” I begged the moment he came up for air. Nothing mattered but this. But him. Not rules, not who I was, not who I was not. This was bigger than both of us. And it scared the shit out of me. He stared at me for a moment, as if piecing together my words. “I don’t have roommates,” I smiled.
With a low growl, he moved his arms around my waist and pulled me against his chest, practically carrying me toward the parking lot. “Shit,” he spat, stopped dead. “I walked.”
“Walked?” I reared, climbing off of him very reluctantly. “Why on earth would you do that?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, making it look even more like sex hair. “My car’s at Joe’s Shop.”
I gripped his forearm and pulled him toward the bike. “Maybe you shouldn’t try to run over a witch then.” He raised an eyebrow as soon as I jumped on the bike and looked back. “What?” I sighed, waiting for the “girls shouldn’t ride bikes” comment I always got. Whenever I wanted to get lucky, I made sure to borrow Raine’s car.
“The image of you on that bike is the damn sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he admitted, rubbing his hand over his chest as if the truth cost him. My heart somersaulted. I removed my helmet from my handlebar and handed it to him. He stared at the pink, sparkly object with a frown. “Where’s yours?”
I smiled. “Don’t need one.” I was very hard to kill without magic. The helmet was just to keep my friends from giving me grief. “Let’s move. I need your pants off. Now.”
He shook his head and set the helmet down on my head. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman. I am not taking your only helmet.”
I started the bike and revved the engine, the sound matching the feeling in my own body. “If you wear it, I’ll let you spend the night.” He didn’t move and my girly parts were getting very angry. “And I’ll call you tomorrow.” Before I could blink, the helmet was off my head and strapped under his chin. I turned around to laugh, but he didn’t look funny.
The pink brought out the fire burning behind his eyes. The fire for me. I almost slid off my seat. I turned around quickly and reeved the engine again. I was getting in way too deep, way too fast. “Hold tight. I like it fast,” I warned.
His arms locked around me, bringing his chest tight against my back. “Why a bike?” he asked against my ear, his hot breath making my skin sizzle.
“Because brooms don’t fly.”
I gave the beast gas and we launched out of the parking lot and zoomed through the dark streets. The adrenaline as we broke the speed limit, the wind in my hair, this man, everything was almost too much. And I loved it.
The moment I parked, he was off the bike and I was around his waist again. It took too long to find my keys for the front door because I refused to break the kiss. Finally, we were inside and up the stairs. My second floor apartment was too far away; it seemed like a lifetime passed before we were inside.
“Pants off now,” he ordered.
“Helmet off now,” I ordered back. He ripped the pink thing off his head and threw it into the corner while I kicked off my boots and unbuttoned my pants.
“You’re taking too long,” he warned and lifted me up, walking the short distance across my studio apartment from my door to my bed. He gripped the bottoms of my jeans and pulled them off in one swift movement, leaving me in awe. His shirt followed, then mine.
Lips met lips. Skin on skin, mouths on skin. We were lost. Hands trailed and lips savored. And with the safety of a foil wrapper and mutual consent, we were one. Our breaths mingled, our backs arched, and fire flared. Music filled the air, soft and melodious. White moonbeams turned pink and red through the window.
What had started as a frenzied first hookup turned into the sensual passion when two souls find a home in one other, the movements of long-time lovers whose biggest desire was to bring pleasure to the other. Toes curled, lungs gasped, and fireworks exploded. Sweat-slicked bodies collapsed, our hearts entwined by more than ever imaginable.
“Hazel,” he whispered. My name was delicious on his tongue.
“Grayson,” I breathed. His arms wrapped tightly around me, his head on my chest. I loved that I would have beard burn on my left breast where he rubbed his stubble. And without fear, I fell asleep in his arms.
***
Goosebumps pricked me awake. I reached blindly for a blanket, but my hand was met with empty air. I sat up and struggled to bite back a scream.
I was floating.
“Oh, crap!” I whispered, looking around me. Grayson slept soundly to my right, his face turned to toward the wall. I tried to tip myself onto the bed, but I didn’t get any closer. I frantically waved my arms and legs like a drowning person. Nothing. Didn’t budge. I was a solid two feet in the air.
Crapcrapcrap.
When I’d read in my grandmother’s journal that witches often floated after intimacy with their soul mate, I thought they were talking emotions. Like “I’m so happy, I feel like I’m floating!” Not actual, legitimate, one-hundred-percent in-the-air floating.
I'd refused to believe that this was even possible. Soul mates weren’t real! And if they were real, they weren’t supposed to show up until after school was done, after I fixed Mom, after I figured out what to do about my sister.
A small giggle broke through the fog of panic. “Ignoring the fact that you’re naked, this is the best second birthday present ever!”
Mortified, I tried to cover myself with my hands. “I don’t know how to get down,” I admitted through teeth. “I’m kind of freaking the hell out.”
Romi snorted. “So the floating is actually a thing? Like legit? How cool. Even I’m surprised, I didn’t think soul mates were a real thing.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
With a sly smile, she ran her hand through the air underneath me. “Look, it’s magic!” I tried to slap her away, but I missed.
“You know, this means I have someone else’s energy I can suck! Since you two did the deed and we all now share a soul. Yay for hanging out more!”
“Romi, you will not suck his energy without his permission! And stop with this soul sharing crap, you’re just freaking me out more.”
“Hm, I’ll just need to get a brief look at my new soul buddy here.” With a wink she rounded the bed to where the delectable Grayson was still sleeping. She shamelessly lifted up the sheet that bunched appetizingly around his hips.
“Rosemary Evanora!” I hissed. Her extra wide smile faded into a round “O”, matching her eyes. She froze. I frowned. She grew more translucent. This was the most like a ghost I had ever seen her. “Romi?”
No breathing.
No moving.
“You’re scaring me, Ro.”
She snapped out of her trance enough to move the sheet, exposing a long, muscular leg. A dusting of hair covered the horrific gray cross. “How did you not see this?” she asked, her eyes bright as if she would cry, if only she could.
“We were otherwise occupied,” I bit back, more out of panic than anger toward her. I gasped as the marking on his leg physically hurt me. My chest burned, my body reared in mid-air, throwing me to the floor. The shock kept me on the floor longer than the fleeting pain. Romi covered his leg and ran to me.
“H
ow did it not affect you when you were...” she trailed off and motioned between him and me.
“I don’t know.” I grabbed the pillow that had slid off the bed, and covered my chest. I was suddenly very self-conscious about being naked in a room with him. Romi had seen me naked plenty times.
“But it should have burned you. You shouldn’t have been able to touch him!”
“I know!” I growled, just as confused. But it did feel like fire when we’d kissed, and I felt used up and overly warm even now.
Hunching low to the ground, as if somehow it’d make me quieter or less visible, I crossed to the bathroom and wrapped myself in my robe. “What am I going to do?” I sighed, sitting on the toilet seat.
She ran her hand through her hair and sat on the counter. “Call Mitch?”
I raised my eyebrow. “No. He’s too worried about changing. He doesn’t need to babysit me.”
“Listen, I know he’s got a lot on his plate, but how many other people are going to understand if you call them at four in the morning because you just banged a witch hunter?” She tapped her finger against her lower lip. “And how was the witch hunter not affected?” She motioned to my chest.
I pulled open the robe, exposing the five-pointed star on my left rib cage. And his lips had been all over that rib cage.
All.
Over.
It.
His lips should have had third degree burns, his chest should have been in so much pain he couldn’t breathe. But there had been nothing. “This is too weird.” Then I swore when I remembered my phone was sitting next to the dumpster at work. “I shattered my phone,” I admitted.
Romi shook her head and rolled her eyes. Grumbling, I walked to the door and peered out through a crack. Grayson was still sleeping. Squeezing through the smallest opening I could, I tiptoed back into the main room and to a pile of clothes.
Maybe Grayson had a phone. I hopped into a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie. Then I grabbed Grayson’s jeans and was immediately reassured by the weight. He had a phone and I had Mitch’s number memorized.
Then a backpack underneath Grayson’s jeans caught my eyes. How did this get here? When did this get here? Was he wearing it while we were on the bike? I couldn’t remember. In my defense, I’d been very, very distracted.
A gnawing sensation in my stomach made me open the bag, risking the sound of the zipper. My hand flew over my mouth to catch my gasp. There was a witch hunter’s box for stealing power inside. And Grayson was a witch hunter.
Panic and betrayal and anger swept through me and I bolted out the front door, phone in hand, taking the stairs two at a time. I pounded the number into the phone, almost tripping in the process. “Stairs, then phone. Stairs then phone,” I reminded myself.
I hit send the moment my feet touched the ground. “Pick up, pick up,” I chanted, throwing open the building door. I growled at the voicemail beep. “Mitch! I’m in trouble. Grayson...”
I froze and pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it. Wait. Grayson had thrown his phone last night. It was lying in a heap by the dumpster at Billy’s next to mine.
So what the hell was I talking on?
I screamed as arms locked around me and a sweet-smelling cloth was shoved over my nose and mouth. Then the world went black.
Chapter 10
Grayson
Mitch’s pounding was the only warning I had before he jammed a key into the lock and threw open the door so hard, the windows shook. “Where the fuck is she, Lynch!?”
I shot out of bed, not even caring that I was completely naked with only a pillow to cover my junk. “What the hell, man?”
“Jesus, put some goddamn pants on!” Mitch covered his eyes.
I scrambled to find yesterday’s jeans. Shoving my legs in as fast I could, I said, “Now, what’s wrong? Where’s Hazel?”
Mitch looked at me through his fingers, double-checking that I was, in fact, wearing pants. He lowered his hands and they curled into fists. I tensed, ready for the fight. “She called me from a blocked number this morning and left me a panicked voicemail that she was in trouble. She said your name.”
I patted the pockets, confused as to why both of my phones were missing. And then it hit me. My untraceable track phone was in a pile by the dumpster. Which meant that Hazel had used the cell that Loren was tracking me on. “Oh shit,” I spat, grabbing my shirt and throwing it over my head. “Come on, we’ve gotta go!”
Mitch grabbed me by the arm and threw me against the wall, his hand wrapping around my neck. He was crazy strong, damn Lycan. “Where. Is. She.”
I wanted to spit in his face. I’d never met a Lycan I liked. But this time, he had a point. His fingers pressed harder into my neck and I struggled to take a breath.
My mind went to static. A sharp flash of light blocked my vision, showing me the inside of a blurry room, a room that was definitely not this one. I roared at the pain, gripping the side of my head.
Mitch let me go. “What’s wrong, Lynch?”
I slumped for a moment, rubbing the front of my neck. Shit, that hurt. “I saw something...”
I closed my eyes and was back in the fuzzy room. I felt drunk. My head throbbed from an injury I didn’t have. I heard a plea for help, so soft there was no way it was said out loud. Help me. The blurry room shifted. Whatever I was seeing moved.
Then I saw a large window pouring in early morning light and I saw a shape of a face reflected back at me. Purple eyes.
“Holy shit, I can see her!” I gasped, feeling sick and confused and amazed at the same time. “I can see her, Mitch!”
I blinked and brought his face back into focus. His jaw hung open. “You can see Zee?”
“I can see through her eyes. Somehow I can see what she’s seeing.”
“Well fuck! Find out where she is!” he ordered.
I nodded and closed my eyes again, concentrating on reaching out to her. I was rewarded by the fuzzy room being pulled into focus. “Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty.” A familiar voice cut through the haze. Every muscle in my body tightened. He was already here.
A familiar silhouette came into view. “Sonofabitch!” I shouted, punching the wall and losing the vision.
“WHAT?” Mitch roared.
“It’s my brother, Loren! He’s got her. The son of a bitch has her!”
Mitch blinked at me, trying to connect the dots. “And why does your brother have her?”
I ran my hand over my face. “Because he wants her power.” If we were going to save her, I was going to have to come clean. It wasn’t going to be pretty. “My real name is Baelfire. My eldest brother is Lucian...and my youngest is Rune.” I knew he was going to know our names, especially together. Everyone did, which is why we haven’t used them, even with each other, since we were children.
Before I could blink, Mitch’s fist connected with my jaw and I saw stars. Man, could he hit. I got a shot in to his stomach before he tackled me to the ground. Fists hit muscles, elbows hit faces, knees ground into bones. I gave as good as I got, but he was much stronger than me, especially this close to a full moon.
I was on my back with him pinning me down, his hands around my neck again. “So help me god, if anything happens to her, I will kill you.”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Let. Go.” I gasped. After staring at me for a long moment, he released my neck and rolled to the floor. We lay on our backs, looking at the ceiling. “I’m retired.”
“Then why are you here?”
And with a sigh, I told him the whole story.
“You know what will happen if you take her power?” Mitch asked. The question was laced with accusation.
“I didn’t find out until last night. But do you know what will happen to Fenton if I don’t take it?”
Mitch was silent. “Yeah, man. I do.”
I sat up slowly, every muscle resisting. I was going to be bruised up and down my entire body. “Damn, you can throw a punch,” I admitted, rubbing my jaw. He smiled, cl
early pleased with himself. “So what do we do now?”
Mitch stood and reached out his hand. I took it and allowed him to help me up. “We go get coffee.”
Chapter 11
Grayson
We impatiently waited in the perma-line at Roasted. Seriously, this place had a line from when they opened at five to when they closed at eleven. They’d finally gotten smart and stayed open twenty-four hours during mid-terms and finals weeks.
“Why the hell are we wasting time in this line when we should be finding Hazel?” I growled. I needed to punch something and then get rip-roaring drunk.
“Because I’m not dumb enough to wake up the only other person who can help us after three hours of sleep without coffee. Unlike you, I don’t have a death wish.”
After getting two black coffees and a mysterious third cup with some vegan, frilly, girly drink, we broke every speed limit on the way to a dilapidated house that was smothered in fallen leaves. Strange art sculptures in the front yard guarded a row of rusting cars. I briefly wondered how many people lived in the two-story bungalow.
It took two rounds of knocking before a girl with hot pink hair flung open the door, completely naked. I blinked twice. I was not expecting that. “Uuuhhh,” Mitch stuttered. I elbowed him. “Raine,” he finally choked.
“You sure, honey?” Pink Hair sang in a raspy, honey-soaked voice, punctuated with a wink.
Our mouths dropped open. “Yes, he’s sure,” Raine’s sultry voice promised from the other side of the door. Pink Hair pouted and stormed away. I focused hard on Raine, trying to not look at the retreating ass. But I was a heterosexual man, and it took a considerable effort.
Raine glared at me and Mitch, one eyebrow raised, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hazel,” I explained. Mitch held out the coffee for her and she grabbed it out of his hand and chugged several gulps before opening the door wider and motioning us in with her head. “Upstairs.”
We walked into a kitchen, piled high with dirty brushes, clay-stained counter tops, and take-out containers. A black cat ran across the sink and slinked down behind a cabinet.
