Magic After Dark Boxed Set (Six Book Bundle)

by Deanna Chase

  “Why?”

  “You intrigue me.”

  “I don’t know you well enough to intrigue you.” I chuckled softly.

  “I am Justus De Gradi,” he said, giving a slight bow but never looking away. “Now you know me.” He sought approval to take a seat.

  I couldn’t help but smirk at the girls at the bar who were having a conniption. I was imagining how Sunny would love every juicy bit of this. He was exactly the type of man she cozied up to, from his smug confidence to the size of the bulge in his pants. His wallet, that is.

  “It’s a free country.”

  Justus eased into the chair across the table, stretching his left arm over the back of the chair. By his body language, I would have been willing to bet his legs were wide open. I had a theory that men who sat that way were the alpha males. But despite his cockiness, he was quiet and serious, not the sort of guy I usually had a drink with. I had to mentally argue with myself, because if anything—the evening was becoming interesting.

  An enigmatic smile lurked, but beneath it lurked something else: frustration.

  “Are you a photographer?”

  “No, why do you ask?” My camera had never come out of my purse the entire time I was in here.

  “You were taking pictures on the street earlier; you seem to have a fascination with people. Unless you are a private investigator.” He studied me, waiting for a response while tapping a gold ring he wore on the table. Not a wedding ring, I noted, as it was on his right hand. Was he kidding?

  “I don’t stalk people for money, no.” I removed the lemon wedge from the rim and set it on the table. “My friend is the photographer; I thought I would impress him with my lack of skills. The atmosphere is different here than where I’m from. The people are interesting.”

  “Some more than others.”

  I wondered how he noticed me outside when it seemed he had plenty of other distractions in this fine establishment that reeked of onion rings and whore perfume. Not to say that I wasn’t flattered, but I had no intention of hooking up with a stalker… no thank you.

  “Are you from around here?” I asked.

  He closed his eyes slowly and when they opened, they sparkled—pleased that I was asking him a question. Justus shook his head. “No, just passing through.”

  “So you’re a wanted felon on the run?”

  His eyes narrowed a fraction before we were interrupted.

  “Can I get you anything, honey?” The waitress leaned over Justus, making sure he had a criminal view of her open blouse.

  Justus leaned to his left to keep his eyes locked on mine. “No, that will be all,” he answered.

  Stacy (according to her nametag) ran a manicured hand down her tight, black pants and I could tell that rejection stung. This guy was a real piece of work with how quickly he could turn off his interest in these women. She glared at me the way a woman does when she’s become the consolation prize and walked off.

  “I do hope you are meeting with someone, Peaches. This isn’t the place for a female without an escort, and it is now evening.”

  “So you’re saying I should have a male escort?” I snorted as I tapped my glass.

  Justus leaned forward with his elbows on the table, letting his left hand fall across his tattooed bicep. He stroked it like a pet—rough and slow—so that I could hear the hiss of skin on skin. It was an obvious attempt at directing attention toward his body. With every methodical stroke, he watched. I grabbed a saltshaker and began mentally counting the holes on the lid. One, two, three, four, five…

  “Are you not pleased by my body?”

  The shaker slipped out of my hand, spilling salt across the wooden table. An army of tiny granules scattered to the far corners. Dumbfounded, I laughed at the question.

  “Not as pleased as you are.” I scooped up the salt and piled it on a napkin. Part of me thought he was visually handsome and wanted to flirt back, yet another part was still hung up on the fact that he completely expected it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know debauchery was on the menu this evening.”

  Through my peripheral vision, I watched his face contort as a man provoked.

  “What brings you here, Zoë?”

  “A friend of mine is on a job assignment, so I’m the tagalong. I’ve never been here, so I wanted to see what it was like.”

  “The photographer?”

  “He’s working; I’m just sightseeing.”

  “How do you find this city?”

  My, wasn’t he proper with conversation? He gave off an air of refinement and superiority that just annoyed me. Did he think he was royalty? I had to wonder what it was about him that made every woman go into heat. He was hot, but he also wasn’t the only male on the premises. In fact, there was a pretty one sitting near the front door that I sent my eyes over to investigate.

  Before I could answer, Justus peered over his shoulder, following my gaze. Just then, he leaned enough to his right so that my view was obstructed.

  Oh, right. Conversation.

  “It’s not bad here—I think the trees are beautiful and the culture is interesting, but it’s not Paris. Not that I would know what Paris looks like—of course, I guess I can travel now if I wanted to.”

  “So you are financially taken care of,” he thought aloud, silently drawing a conclusion.

  I laughed, nearly spitting out my drink. I considered how I should answer while setting down my glass on the square napkin of salt. “If you’re asking if I’m a kept woman, then no.”

  “What are you looking at?” I could see he was growing apprehensive.

  “Nothing, just that thing over your eye.” He knew what I meant—Justus had a silver bar that ran through the top of his brow straight to the bottom. I didn’t particularly care for this type of piercing on a man.

  His hand lightly touched it and I caught a flash of insecurity in that massive ego. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Justus wasn’t used to anyone being honest with him, or for that matter, disagreeing with him. This was a man who was used to getting his way and hearing what he wanted.

  “You don’t like it?”

  I scratched at my earlobe, pondering how to broach this with a little tact, something I wasn’t entirely good at. “It’s just that you would look better without it. I mean, you might as well get one of those bone things and put it in your nose. No offense, it’s just that for some reason I don’t get the piercing vibe from you. I’m not sure what kind of image you’re trying to project, but you don’t need it.”

  “Can I buy you dinner?”

  I blinked.

  I practically insulted the man and now he wanted to feed me. What the hell just happened?

  Of course I was hungry; I hadn’t eaten since we arrived. My face suddenly paled when I remembered Adam. He was going to call around nine—the thing about distractions is they always seem to come at the most inopportune time. If I wasn’t in the hotel when Adam returned, there was no telling what he would do. I didn’t know our hotel number, let alone Adam’s cell number.

  “What time is it?” I grabbed my purse and looked around the bar. The clock on the wall was screaming nine thirty with its hands.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go!” I reached in my purse and snatched a dollar, placing it under my glass as I stood up.

  “Wait.” Justus held an arm out without touching me to get my attention. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I don’t have a car; I took the trolley.”

  He frowned and dropped a twenty on top of my dollar bill.

  “Is it still running? I need to get back right away!”

  “You’ll be fine, white rabbit. I am escorting you to the station.”

  I guess I got my male escort after all.

  I thought I overheard one of the girls at the bar spit up a hairball when they caught wind of what was going on.

  “Umm… I’m not so sure that this is a good idea. I don’t—”

  “You will accept my company,” he stated as fact, w
alking beside me as we approached the door.

  “And how do I know you aren’t some kind of serial killer?”

  Those serious brows lifted a fraction, bemused. “I should be offended. Why would you imply that?”

  I stopped near the door. “Oh, I don’t know, your prey over there?” My arm swung theatrically toward the bar. Mascara-lined eyes bored into the back of my skull, but I didn’t turn around.

  “I don’t think I’d qualify, as they are the ones stalking me.” He winked.

  “I bet.”

  “And what of this one?”

  When I watched Justus set his hand on the shoulder of a man seated at the table, I blushed from head to toe. It was the dark-haired man I was admiring earlier. He rose from his seat and looked as strangely confused as I was.

  Justus pushed him back down, giving me a wolfish grin that sent me running out the doorway—mortified.

  Chapter 10

  The streets were filled with a young crowd after dark—mostly drunk—and looking for fun. My eyes occasionally looked away from the tips of my shoes to the signs we passed. While I had adjusted to my new legs, I still didn’t trust that I wouldn’t go sailing across the uneven concrete.

  Justus tucked his hands in his pockets. For every two steps I made, he only took one. There was a comfort walking with him; I felt like I had a personal guard, even despite the fact he was a stranger I just met in a bar.

  Another strange thing I noticed was how I didn’t have that empty feeling when I was with him.

  “Why did you do that in there,” I asked combatively.

  “Do?”

  “Embarrass me?” As if he didn’t know.

  There was a deep chuckle. “Apologies.”

  Yet, no regret. I muffled a grunt and took a deep breath of the clean evening air.

  “So, Miss Zoë, where are you visiting from?”

  “We’re from Texas.”

  He lowered his head and followed the swing of my hand, perhaps looking for a ring. When he got the answer he needed he continued. “Boyfriend?”

  I played with that idea for a minute before I responded.

  “Ah, no. Just a friend.”

  That filled a little corner of my heart, knowing that I had a friend. Although once I got back to the hotel, that remained to be seen.

  Justus looked up when a car blew past us and muttered to himself, “Friends with benefits.”

  I fell back just a pace. “Now that really stung. Do you think I just sleep around? You think just because a woman has a male friend she’s automatically sleeping with him? Don’t go around making blind assumptions, because you’re probably wrong.”

  He sighed, and I almost felt bad for snapping at him—except that he had almost called me a whore. It wasn’t really what he said, but the way he said it that irked me. Otherwise, a comment like that I might have brushed off with a laugh.

  “Don’t you have a car, Justus?”

  “I do,” he replied. He caught the look I was throwing. “It would not be suitable for me to offer. A woman should be watchful of her safety; never ride in a strange man’s car.”

  “Strange man, indeed,” I mumbled.

  Wow, this guy I would have never expected to get the safety lecture from. I suspected if Justus caught Smokey the Bear lighting a match, he would probably beat him down with a cane.

  We sank into the shadows of the dark road as the street lamps became fewer and dimmer. A long brick wall stretched out on our right, and across the street were dark shops—closed for business. Up ahead, I heard voices and saw two men leaning up against the wall talking.

  “It’s cooler here than I thought it would be.” I brushed the chill off my shoulders. “I should have worn something else.”

  The heavyset man nodded at his friend in the red shirt, who hopped off the curb with an extra skip in his step. There was no reason to be concerned until the guy against the wall pushed off and began stalking toward us with dark eyes scoping my purse.

  Before I could react, Justus flung his arm out in front of me so swiftly that I ran into it and gasped. He guided me protectively behind him while he positioned himself in a fighting stance. I couldn’t see anything but T-shirt.

  A thick voice as sharp as a knife challenged him. “What’s up?”

  Justus didn’t respond. I looked down and saw that my hands were trembling.

  A cheap purse with fifteen dollars in single bills was not worth my life. I already lost it once and I had no intention of losing it again. At least, not this soon.

  I stepped left for a better view. They were toe-to-toe, and Justus bested him by at least four inches.

  “Here,” I said, holding my purse out. “I don’t have anything worth taking, but you can have it.”

  “Is that so, honey pie?”

  I snapped my head to the left and saw the second man in the red shirt closing in. He came out of nowhere and I grabbed Justus by the back of the shirt, twisting it nervously in my hands as my heart thundered.

  We were in the worst possible area and completely alone. I thought about turning back and running in the opposite direction, but the man in the red shirt was too close. He also had flashy white sneakers, the kind that you couldn’t outrun in a pair of flats. I tossed my purse to his feet and the contents spilled out.

  “Check out the honey,” he said, edging closer. “She’s sweet—look at her blushing. She knows what’s waiting for her.” He took a wide step over my purse and smiled wolfishly.

  “Tell your pawn to back off,” Justus growled.

  The man in front of him lifted his chin. “Do we have a problem here, motherfucker?”

  “Back. The. Fuck. Off. And we won’t.”

  Tension: sharp as a blade, thin as a hair, and acidic on the tongue. That’s when I let go and stepped back. Heat flared off Justus like a fever and the moment I heard metal click, I jumped.

  Someone had a knife.

  Justus stood like a powder keg—legs in an open stance, arms hovering inches from his body, as if he were ready to combust with some ass kicking. Alarm ran up my spine, latched on, gripped tightly, and clawed with dull nails.

  “Leave us alone,” I said meekly. “Just let us go.”

  Red-shirt guy snatched my skirt in a tight fist—leaning forward as if he were bowing to me. The tip of his tongue swept against the corner of his mouth. He looked like a wolf on the hunt with his crooked teeth—I his prey.

  “Justus,” I started to whisper.

  I cried out when my skirt was yanked hard and I flew out, stumbling over my feet.

  That’s when all hell broke loose.

  I heard grunts from behind, shoes sliding on concrete, flesh and knuckles hitting bone—but I didn’t see a thing. I landed in his arms and when he pushed his nose in my hair, drawing in a deep breath, I shuddered. Without a thought, I punched his jaw upward and there was an audible click of his teeth cracking together.

  He flashed those canines at me and scowled. “Goddammit, you stupid bitch!”

  I didn’t even see his arm swing out, but he hit me in the face with a solid fist.

  The concrete broke my fall, but I was by no means defeated. Livid might be a better word.

  While he distracted himself by flexing his jaw, I kicked him in the shin with everything I had. At the same time there was a shout from behind and something heavy hit the ground.

  I pushed myself up, ready for a fight, when he rushed at me but never made it. Justus launched himself between us and cracked the man’s nose so hard I involuntarily cringed at the deformity.

  He roared out in pain, pivoting around and nearly falling over as he took off running. Justus hauled ass after him and got in a few good punches. His friend was splayed out on the ground, unconscious. There was no trace of blood.

  The attacker sprinted off as if his life depended on it, becoming nothing more than a vanishing silhouette. Justus lingered in the center of the road as if he had a mind to chase him, but instead he turned back, stalking toward me with
a control and confidence that was distinctly territorial.

  He said nothing when he knelt down before me.

  “Are you okay?” My voice was husky and out of breath.

  “You first,” he mumbled, focusing in on my face with an intimate stare. His expression tightened when it settled on my throbbing cheek. The next sentence was spoken slowly, through clenched teeth.

  “Had I known he hit you I would have hunted him down and snapped a few more bones.”

  One minute I felt flattered by his statement, and when he spoke the next, I only felt the sting of annoyance. “You have a fearless heart; shame that you are weakened by your words.”

  “Sorry if begging for my life seemed like a good idea.”

  A strange sensation came over me, like poison was pumping through my veins—hot, numbing, and full of adrenaline. I licked my parched lips and searched for a calming breath. Justus reached around, touching the back of my neck, and that’s when it happened.

  His touch. That touch was pulling something from me as if I had an internal magnet that was rising to the surface to meet its match. It was that power I had, that unexplainable thing living inside of me, buzzing in my fingertips. Leaning in—as close as two people could get without an exchange of lips and tongue—he tilted his head and searched my eyes.

  “Look at me, Zoë.”

  The smooth command of his voice lifted my eyes. A current of energy was bubbling in every nerve, snapping at the ends like a hungry dragon. Realizing that I was coming very close to that same sensation that threw a volt of electricity into Adam, I pushed him away. Justus leveled me with his eyes, pulled me close, and put his thumb on my forehead.

  “Mage,” he breathed. There was nothing sensual in his tone. In fact, his lips curled as if he were staring at the enemy.

  My lips parted, confused by his statement. Mage? Maybe this guy was crazy, after all.

  Justus gripped my arm and shook it—he was angry. Angry? I just got clocked in the face in the middle of the street by a man wearing hubcaps on his teeth, and he had the nerve to be angry with me?