by Michele Hauf
Don’t mix business and pleasure. How difficult was it to obey that one rule?
The door swung open and inside stood a smiling witch with black-and-white hair that spilled over a sleek silk nightgown—sans robe. Kaz’s eyes traveled from the thin straps that hugged her slender shoulders, down over gorgeously rounded breasts. He licked his lips, ending with a tooth-clutch on the corner of his lower lip. The black fabric hugged her hips and thighs, and... He didn’t get to her feet because his focus zoomed back up to her breasts.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she said in that sweet tone that belied the vixen beneath the innocent facade. Stepping back, she invited him inside. “You have a busy night slaying?”
“Uh...” Kaz knew he had been planning to ask her something.
Something important.
Zoë exhaled, and when she did her breasts pressed against the fabric, emphasizing the hard nipples beneath. They were tight and perfect and...so in need of his tongue.
“Kaz?”
“Uh-huh,” he muttered, and dismissed whatever he’d wanted to say as unimportant. If he wasn’t able to remember it, it couldn’t have been that important, right? “You trying to seduce me, witch?”
She trailed a finger up his chest and tapped his lips. “I never try. I always do.”
Chapter 13
Zoë carefully slid off Kaz’s coat. The twin rows of blades along the collar tabs always gave her caution. When it was placed across the back of the balding velvet easy chair, she stood aside and watched the hunter shed his armor. With a reverent inhale, she felt as if she were witnessing a sacred ritual, the knight setting aside his armaments.
Kaz’s broad shoulders and muscles flexed as he took off the stakes he had hooked at his waist, and the garrote she had borrowed the other day and set them on top of the coat. He may have been on to something when he’d suggested she seek her thrills in other manners. Since indulging in the sensual pleasures with Kaz, she had felt little urge to nick anything from him.
He flashed her a sly smile and shrugged as he shoved a hand in his pocket and pulled out a vial of holy water and a silver cross. A brass key he studied for a moment, then shoved back in the pocket.
The palm-size silver cross clattered onto the coffee table and Zoë had to smile. “I thought vamps were immune to holy objects?”
“Only if they haven’t been baptized. Most created vamps nowadays have been, so the blessed stuff comes in handy. It leaves a wound that will never heal.”
“That sounds awful.”
“It is.” He stood there, palms together, looking over his abandoned arsenal. “But someone has to protect innocent humans from the vampires without a conscience.”
“I’m glad you do what you do, Kaz. No wounds tonight?” she asked.
“Want to check?” He tugged off his shirt and turned to her, giving her a come-here gesture with his fingers.
She snuggled up against the hard warmth of him and ran her fingers down the delicious curves of muscles and skin. Yes, she was glad he did what he did, and that he even existed to stand here in her arms. So hot and hard. Her heartbeats stuttered and she sighed against his skin. He shivered minutely at that hushed breath.
“You feel so fine,” she whispered, her eyes dancing over the brand and then down to his biceps. “I think you’re wound free, but I haven’t checked all places on you.”
“The checking can commence, but...I want to know why you answered the door dressed for seduction. What if it hadn’t been me?”
“I wasn’t expecting anyone else.” She walked backward, leading him by the hand toward the stairs. “I want to show you something.”
The man waggled his eyebrows and followed her up to the second floor where her bedroom door opened to the soft glow of dozens of candles. Yes, she had been hoping upon hope he’d show up at her door tonight. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
Tonight her dreams would come true.
She led him inside and he stopped at the end of the bed, taking it all in. From the candles on the windowsill, to those along the gray-painted floorboards, they cast a golden shimmer across the simple gray wood furniture and white bedding and window sheers. Along the ceiling, Zoë had strung tiny white Christmas lights a few years ago, and couldn’t bring herself to take them down because they added a touch of enchantment to the room. Didn’t matter that she didn’t celebrate the Christian holiday.
“Now I’m really hoping it was only me you were expecting,” he said, with a tap to one of the dangling lights.
“Only my knight cloaked in mystery and darkness.”
“Ah, come on. I’m not so mysterious to you, am I?”
“I have learned a lot about you. I love that you’ve trusted me to open up, Kaz. I feel safe with you.”
He curled his fingers about the ends of her fingers and they dangled there between them. “What are the reasons you don’t feel safe?”
She shrugged, brushing it off. “Let’s focus on moving forward, shall we? I said I wanted to show you something.”
She strolled to the table before the window where a gramophone sat, and set the needle onto a record that had been pressed early last century. Strains of a French love song quietly echoed out. A chanteuse who had been famous in the 1920s, according to Zoë’s mother. Francine Guillebeaux had listened to this record often, late at night. Zoë had heard it creep softly into her room and she’d always envisioned her parents dancing arm in arm, and that thought had coaxed her into sweet dreams.
She turned to find a smile on Kaz’s face. He held out a hand for her to take. “Dance with me?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
She took his hand and he tugged her against his bare chest and they swayed to the soft music beneath the glitter of Christmas lights. Nothing so spectacular as the Eiffel Tower twinkling in the background, but much more intimate. An exhale felt the rise of his breath against her chest and an inhale took in his licorice scent. The man was positively delicious.
“Are you not into new technology?” he asked with a nod toward the gramophone. “Or is that something you’ve had for a while?”
“Monsieur Mortal, are you implying I’m old?”
He shrugged against her body and the feel of his muscles challenged her resolve to take things slowly. “I don’t know. Witches can be centuries old, can’t they?”
“They can, but I’m not. That belonged to my parents. And no, I’m not into technology. I prefer vinyl to MP3s. It sounds richer, and feels—” she snuggled up to him “—so romantic.”
“I can dig the romance stuff.”
“You strike me as a man who might be uncomfortable with soft sighs and tender bon mots.”
“I can do tender.” He trailed his fingers down her back, which sent shivers dancing up her neck and across her scalp. Her nipples tightened and she instinctively arched her back, pressing against his chest. “I can also do this.” He gripped her hand and slid his other hand across her back, and suddenly bent her backward into a dip.
Giggles pealed from Zoë’s mouth and she didn’t ever want to come up for air. Oh, bewitchment. It was a marvelous thing.
When Kaz did pull her to her feet, she danced around him, and stroked her hands down his broad, bare back, admiring the flex of his muscles as he moved subtly. Kisses here and there marked the curve of a muscle or the pulse of skin. She carefully marked a trail along the back of his neck where he smelled sweet and dark. Behind his ear sat the witch’s spell against vampire bites, but he wore no other tattoos that she could see. The masculine hard lines of him coaxed her fingers to glide and touch and feel. Everywhere.
He tilted his head back and she pushed her fingers up through his hair, then kissed him at the base of his neck where the shorter strands tickled her lips. “Want to have sex?”
It was bold of her,
but she was ready, so ready, to know this man completely. She hoped he felt the same. And if he hadn’t gotten all her hints, then he truly was a failure at romance.
Sid wandered in along the wall and sat before a flickering candle flame. The cat’s green eyes observed without judgment.
Kaz turned and as he sat on the bed, he pulled her forward. Zoë straddled him, sitting on his lap. He nuzzled his face against her breasts, kissing, licking and tonguing along her nightgown.
“Is that a yes?” she asked.
He nodded. He was busy. She didn’t mind.
With a flick of his fingers, he slid the spaghetti straps down her arms. Zoë thrust back her shoulders. He tugged the silk down to reveal her breasts, muttered, “Oh, witch,” and growled in satisfaction as he dashed his tongue across a nipple.
She trusted he wouldn’t hurt her, in the physical sense. She feared the emotional pain of getting close to a man, but only because it had been so long since she’d been in a relationship that had lasted more than three or four months. He didn’t seem to be bothered by her scar. Something so superficial shouldn’t be reason for anyone to duck out of a relationship, but it had happened to her over and over.
She wanted to toss all her hang-ups aside and enjoy this moment. So she would. And to do that, she had to take control.
Zoë pushed Kaz back to lie across the bed. He gave her a questioning look accompanied by a daring smirk. Hadn’t she been enjoying his attentions?
“Me first,” she simply said, and tugged open the button on his jeans. “I should do triage to ensure you’ve healed.”
Sliding down the zipper on his leather pants, she winked at him. Kaz lifted his hips, which loosened the tight stretch of leather as the fly sprang open and released his hard shaft. Her fingers fit around the hot column, and she mentally compared it to the titanium stake he often wielded.
“My turn to play the hunter,” she teased as she gripped him as he would a weapon.
“Best triage I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She inspected his hip where the wound was fading, as expected. “You’ve a swell healer, hunter.”
“She’s the best. Oooh...”
Bending, she tickled her tongue across the head of him. Like salted fire, his taste, and smooth and so thick. Kaz rocked up his hips and moaned encouragement.
“Now that’s some magic,” he muttered.
She smiled against the length of him and licked him firmly, tracing the vein. Cupping his testicles, she squeezed gently, then enclosed them in both her hands.
“Zoë...”
Tension tugged his voice, yet she guessed it was a good tightness. Rising onto her knees, and still cupping him, she lashed his erection once more before he grabbed her by the arms and flipped her onto the bed.
“My turn,” he growled, and pulled the nightie from her body in a sleek move. “You’re so gorgeous, Zoë. Your skin—hell, it’s like cream. Bet it tastes even better.”
He bent his head to her stomach. The heat of his tongue scurried over her skin and spread throughout her system. Zoë exhaled and closed her eyes, dragging her fingers through his hair, but not tugging. Her arms relaxed and she flung them over her head, stretching out her legs and opening herself to his ministrations.
The hunter trailed his tongue down her belly, nipping gently here and there, which rocketed the sensation up exponentially. She grasped the sheets, fisting them as he spread her legs and kissed her mons.
Shivers spread across her stomach and thighs. The touch of his tongue at her apex made her gasp and reach out to clutch the pillow. He tasted, dashing out his tongue once, then again, and then he feasted on her, connecting to the very center of her being with his mouth.
He glided a hand along her thigh and hooked her leg over his shoulder. Zoë dug her toes into his back, and he growled, “Oh, yeah.”
Teasing her, he slid his fingers inside her, growling again in pleasure, and then slipped them out and slicked them across her swollen bud again and again.
Zoë moaned and reached down to touch the scruff of his short hair. He quickly kissed her fingers, then went back to the sweet torture that stirred her system to a spinning, swirling dream of abandon.
“Move up here,” she gasped. “Let me hold you, Kaz. Please. I need to...have you in my hand.”
He slid alongside her, without losing his place, his tongue mimicking the movement of his fingers. Kneeling, he bent over her, but she was able to clutch his erection, so hard and unbelievably solid. How could any man transform to such rigidness? It was an alchemy she admired, and it had come from her hand, yet not a touch of magic had been required.
“Zoë. Sweet witch of mine,” he gasped as her hand slicked up and down his length. He rubbed her quickly but not roughly, just skimming her wetness and activating that desire that would soon explode. “I’m going to come,” he growled.
“Yes,” she cried as the energy within her arrowed toward her core and her muscles released, then tightened, and then released again as the immense wave crashed against her soul. At the same time, Kaz spilled over her fingers and the two of them shuddered through the shared orgasm, their bodies united in the delicious triumph.
He pressed his cheek against her mons, and wrapped an arm over her stomach to hug her. “Oh, yeah.”
“That was...there are no words.” Kaz sighed heavily, and rolled back to lie beside her.
“Of course there are words,” she said, gasping and smiling as she turned to face him. “Sensational.”
“Amazing,” he chimed in.
She stroked her fingers down his chest, glistening with sweat. “Magic.”
“Tell me you didn’t use magic on me, Zoë.”
“Not at all. It was a natural magic. Two bodies coming together...” She sighed.
He took her hand and kissed it then pressed it to his hard abdomen. “We are magic together. I like the sound of that.”
She reached for him again and found him already firm even after his fabulous climax. “I want you inside me, Kaz. Filling me.” She leaned in to kiss his chest and teased her tongue about his nipple. “Claiming me.”
His hand glided along her hip and waist and gripped her firmly to draw her against him. She couldn’t get enough of this man.
* * *
If bewitchment involved losing all thoughts save for those of the skin, scent and sound of the beautiful woman lying beneath him, then he was in for the whole experience. Bewitched made him want and need and take and give and wish it would never end.
“Bewitched,” Kaz muttered as he moved back and forth, in and out of Zoë’s hot wetness.
He’d sheathed himself inside her, and she wrapped her legs about his hips and gripped his biceps, squeezing, moaning, now and then catching his gaze. He could stay inside her forever. This was good, almost too good for him, but he wasn’t going to go there. Couldn’t allow a negative thought to spoil it all.
He’d found something good, and he wouldn’t let her go.
Dipping his head, he nuzzled one of her nipples, suckling, drawing up her pleasure in wanting, gasping moans. The sound of her erotic agony only tightened him more and made him pump faster, deeper, seeking the core of her. He would own her.
Because she had claimed him.
Somewhere on the bed, the black cat wandered over the sheets. Kaz felt the weird tickle of fur along his ankle, and out the corner of his eye he noticed the feline watching. It was unnerving, and not. He wasn’t about to kick the thing off.
Zoë’s fingernails dragged along his abdomen, up his ribs and around across his back. Kaz groaned at the sweet pain and slammed his hips to hers, holding there, deep within her.
He withdrew his cock almost completely out. She hugged him so tightly it was agonizing not to slam back inside, but he took it slow, and with every l
ittle bit he gave her, she responded with those sweet sounds that were music to his ears.
Orgasm snuck up on him, tightening his muscles, and then...the universe assumed the controls and shocked him with a pleasure like he’d never known. It shivered through his bones and escaped his throat in a hoarse shout. It was all good, and good for all. Like some kind of musketeer motto, he wanted to shout it out, but instead he growled and rode the wave.
He collapsed on Zoë’s soft, full breasts, cupping them on each side, and nuzzled his face against her throat and tangled hair. “Magic.”
Chapter 14
A knock on the door below stirred Zoë from her semiawake rest beside the long, lean form of her sexy hunter. Ignoring the knock, she stroked his skin and snuggled even closer to his insane heat—when she remembered.
Hiking herself from the bed and grabbing her robe, she charged out of the bedroom, dashed up the stairs to her spell room, grabbed the Hello Kitty suitcase and then glided down the stairs as if the devil Himself were prodding her heels with his fiery pitchfork.
From the foyer she saw the person outside lift a hand to knock again. Zoë swung open the door, gasping to catch her breath, and caught the robe before it spilled open to expose her nudity to the entire neighborhood.
“Bonjour,” she said between huffs.
Above and behind her, she heard a cell phone jangle to the tune of—Johnny Cash?
Please don’t wake up, Kaz, until I get rid of this vampire. He would have questions about why a vampire was at her door, and probably wouldn’t pause to talk, but instead whip out his stake and ash her.
“I woke you,” the pink-haired vampiress said with a knowing smirk. Her eyes took a quick trip over Zoë’s disarray, but she didn’t comment. “You got the goods? Hand ’em over. I’m tired. I hate these early-morning pickups.”
“Mauritius set them up,” Zoë said as she handed the suitcase over the threshold, hoping the vampiress wouldn’t weigh it because she hadn’t an excuse for not having a complete batch. It was close, perhaps ninety percent complete.
