Witches Can't Fly (Otherworld Crime Unit Book 3)

by Nova Archer

  “There’s this one part that’s really bugging me. I look at it and think I should know what it means, but I can’t seem to reason it out.”

  Theron glanced down at the passage and symbols she referred to. It was the part that he had already figured out, or thought he had. He knew she would figure it out eventually. She was a smart lady, but for now, he didn’t want her to worry, to fear. If he could keep that from her, he would.

  Sliding his hands under the book, he picked it up and snapped it closed. She flinched at the action.

  “No work right now.” He set the book onto the table.

  “Theron, it’s important that we figure that out.”

  “I know.” He turned so he was facing her. “Just give us another half hour to relax before we have to deal with the case again. A half hour, that’s all I ask.”

  She eyed him and he could see the wheels whirling in her mind, trying to decide what he was up to, and whether she liked it.

  “Okay.” Her gaze was scrutinizing, weary even, as she searched for his angle. He smiled because of it.

  Her blatant innocence turned him on, like nothing before. She was more enthralling than any scantily clad woman with a come hither look.

  “Could you hold me for awhile?” She rubbed her hands on her arms. “I haven’t been able to shake this cold creeping over me since seeing Claire’s body.”

  Nodding, he gathered her in his arms, too overwhelmed for words. Fear pinched her features. It made his stomach clench and his heart ache. Two sensations he wasn’t familiar with under these circumstances, having never experienced them when it came to women.

  She shivered in his arms, and he pressed her closer wanting desperately to ease her shakes. Lifting a hand, he stroked her hair, letting the silky strands brush through his fingers. Cuddled close, Theron realized that she was really quite small, his petite socierce, although she never came across that way. She had always seemed taller and stronger, until now. He was besieged with emotion that she chose to bring down the veil in front of him. That she trusted him enough to allow him in.

  He kissed the top of her head. “You’re safe with me, Lyra. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  Shifting her position, she looked at him. Her eyes were wet with tears. “I know you won’t.”

  He could see the trust in her eyes and it nearly did him in.

  Leaning down, he neared her lips inch by inch afraid to go too fast, yet vibrating with a need to go faster. Her eyelashes fluttered as he stopped a mere whisper away. Her quickening breath puffed against his lips, warming them. He could smell chamomile and the spicy sauce they had just consumed. The urge to kiss her vibrated through his whole body, but he wanted her to breach the last inch between them. It had to be her choice.

  “Kiss me, Theron,” she breathed, quaking in his arms.

  “No,” he panted against her lips. “Kiss me.”

  Closing her eyes, she covered his mouth with hers and kissed him just as he asked. It was well worth the agony of waiting.

  Cupping her cheeks, he titled her head to deepen the kiss. She moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it down, eager for more, eager for whatever she’d give him. He was ravenous for her and hoped she didn’t ask him to stop, because he wasn’t sure if he could and still stay sane.

  Careful not to scare her, Theron lowered his hands to her neck, caressing her, then down to her shoulders. She leaned into him as he moved his hands over her back. Lyra was receptive to his touch, urging him to be bolder.

  Dragging his lips from her mouth, he pressed kisses to her chin, along her jawline and to her ear. He licked the outer edge of her lobe, then sucked the sensitive flesh into his mouth.

  Fisting her hands into his shirt, she pulled on him, bringing him closer, as he nibbled on her ear. Every stroke of his tongue brought heated gasps of pleasure from her lips. He loved the little sounds she made. He wanted to hear more. By the end, he needed her to be screaming his name.

  “Ton beauté m'écrase,” he panted.

  “What does that mean?” she breathed, her voice catching with the things he was doing at her neck.

  “Your beauty crushes me.”

  Sighing, she ran her hands through his hair. “By the moon, I love French.”

  Chuckling, he continued to lick and suckle the flesh on her neck just under her ear. He moaned just thinking about how responsive she’d be when he touched her between the thighs. He knew she’d be hot and wet for him.

  Slowly, Theron moved his hand over and cupped her breast. He was rewarded with a low mew and gasp of delight. She matched the size of his palm and he could feel her rigid nipple through the thin cotton of her shirt. He closed his eyes and nearly sobbed knowing that she’d fit perfectly into his mouth.

  Caressing her, he rubbed his thumb over her taut peak, glorying in the sudden pants she gave. He couldn’t wait to have her naked and beneath him. He wanted to watch her face as he eased into her inch by inch, knowing that he’d be her first. Knowing that he would be giving her that pleasure. Him and only him.

  With deft fingers, Theron began to unbutton her shirt. After the fourth one, he slid his hand inside and cupped her breast again. The simple cotton of her bra made him groan. He never knew ordinary cotton could drive him mad with desire. But it did. He needed to see her in it, all of her.

  Tugging at the shirt, he pulled it up and finished undoing the last button. Theron pushed the two sides apart and looked his fill of her. He bit down on his lip to stop the groan. Her creamy skin glowed against the simple light blue color of her bra. He had the desperate urge to trail his tongue along the curves of her breasts heaving above the cotton.

  “So beautiful, my petite sociere.”

  “I’m not.”

  He could see her struggling to cover herself with her hands.

  “You are more beautiful to me than any woman. I wish you could see yourself as I do.”

  “Theron—,”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. He didn’t want to hear her uncertainty. If it was the last thing he ever did, he would make her see just how extraordinary she truly was.

  “No, tonight I will show you your beauty.” Leaning down he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her again, eagerly, thoroughly, so she would know just how much he desired her.

  Twining her fingers into his hair, she held on as he trailed moist kisses along her chin, down her neck and to her chest. She took in short ragged breaths as he lowered his mouth to the swell of her breasts. He pressed his lips to the top of one breast then the other, inhaling her mouth-watering scent each time. His head was dizzy from her, intoxicated, drunk on her smell and taste of her skin.

  With one finger, he pulled on the cup of her bra to reveal one perfect nipple, tight and flushed. Eager to taste her skin, he bent down to press his mouth to her flesh.

  The shrill of a cell phone startled him and he halted before he could touch her.

  Clearly flustered, Lyra turned and made a grab for the phone that sat on the table. Theron held her around the waist but that didn’t stop her from nearly falling off the sofa in the process. She managed to snatch the cell before she landed face first onto the carpet.

  She flipped it open. “It’s Lyra.” She avoided his gaze as she murmured into the phone. By the short clipped answers, Theron knew it was Caine calling.

  Shutting the phone, she set it on the table then pulled her shirt closed. It was a surefire end to the evening. She didn’t have to say a word. He could read it in her eyes. Her guard came up instantaneously. It was a marvel to behold.

  She was no longer the pliant vulnerable woman that he had shared dinner with but the no nonsense crime scene investigator back at her job.

  “That was Caine,” she said as she buttoned her shirt quickly. “Nadja’s agreed to come in. Mahina’s going to do the interview right away.”

  “You don’t have to be there, do you?”

  “No, but I want to be.”

  Theron released his hold on her and p
ushed back on the sofa putting distance physical distance between them to mimic the palpable distance already solidifying.

  “Well, then I guess we should get to the station.” He stood and straightened his shirt, noticing that his pants were going to be a lot harder to straighten. He ached like a sonofabitch.

  “I’m sorry Theron,” she said gazing at him with something akin to sympathy in her eyes.

  He shook his head and waved away her apology. “I’ll survive.” He glanced down at the tent he made in his trousers and smiled. “Maybe.”

  Her lips lifted into a smile, and then they laughed together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Because of the damage to the underground parking lot, Lyra had to park her car outside the Necropolis Police Department in the visitor area. A throng of reporters milled about outside the main doors, and when she and Theron neared they perked up, pressed on fake smiles and thrust their microphones into Lyra’s face.

  “Ms. Magice, are the rumors true that Nadja Devanshi is involved in a series of grisly murders throughout Necropolis and the surrounding area?” The question came from Roxanne Parker, an unscrupulous lycan journalist from the Necropolis Times.

  Ignoring her, Lyra tried to push past the reporter. Roxanne put her arm on Lyra to stop her from moving ahead. “Is it true that one of the murder victim’s looks exactly like you? Do you feel as if this is a direct threat to your safety?”

  “No. Comment.”

  Theron who had been behind Lyra, pushed ahead and grabbed the reporter’s arm. “I suggest you remove your hand, if you want to keep it intact.”

  Startled by the cutting comment, the lycan snatched her hand back and stared at Theron wide-eyed. A low growl sounded in the woman’s throat, but it didn’t deter the dhampir. In fact, he looked quite amused at her behavior. The dramatic arch of his brow and the rather bored expression on his face spoke volumes.

  Wrapping his arm around Lyra’s shoulder, Theron escorted her the rest of the way into the police station. After his display, a path had been efficiently cut into the mob of reporters and the pair weren’t bothered again.

  As they walked through the lobby and to the back offices, Eve caught them on the fly. “Oh, you’re here. Good.” She ushered them quickly down the hallway. “Caine should’ve warned you about the press.”

  “Yeah, it’s a circus out there.”

  “It’s a circus in here, too,” Eve added.

  Stopping at a door near one of the interview rooms, Eve opened it and went in. Lyra and Theron followed her through. Caine, Jace and Tala were already inside, standing at the two-way mirror, watching the goings on inside the interview room.

  Jace glanced over his shoulder. “Welcome to the main attraction.”

  Without comment, Lyra took a position at the window. Inside, Mahina was standing behind the table, her back to them. On the other side of the table sat Nadja Devanshi and her lawyer, Robert, another vampire by the looks of his haughty facade and crisply pressed suit.

  Nadja appeared calm and unaffected in her impeccable cream and navy dress. She fingered the strings of pearls at her neck while eyeing Mahina. Maybe the vampiress wasn’t as impenetrable as she came across.

  If anyone could break her, it would be the lycan police captain.

  The lawyer began. “For the record I’d like to remind you and the several people standing behind the mirror that Ms. Devanshi has voluntarily agreed to this interview. She wantes the police to find the killer and put him away for life, as do we all.”

  “Noted,” Mahina said. “Why did you lie to chief investigator Caine Valorian about knowing Lori James?”

  “I wasn’t aware that I had.” Her voice was cool and aloof like brittle ice. It sent a shiver down Lyra’s spine.

  “Two days ago at the club, he asked you if you knew Lori James, a witch who worked at the spa. You told him you didn’t know her.”

  “If I told him that, then it must be true.”

  “We have a viable witness who claims that you knew the deceased very well. That you fed from her often enough to be more than casual acquaintances.”

  The lawyer cleared his throat. “If you’re referring to one Kellen Falcon, the ballistics expert for the OCU, for one, he is a biased witness as he works with Mr. Valorian; and two, he has recently been diagnosed with SC.” He steepled his fingers on the table. “Not a very good witness in my opinion. A vampire slowly going mad. What else do you have because so far this is looking pretty pathetic and a complete waste of time.”

  Nadja put her hand on his arm. “Come now, Robert, let them have their fun. It’s obvious they have nothing better to do than to harass me. Look at the bright side. I’ve gotten a hell of a lot of publicity from this. It might help sell my new CD.”

  “Oh, she’s a cold one,” Jace commented.

  “She’s a bitch,” Eve bit out.

  Caine put his arm around her and squeezed her close. Lyra knew that Eve had had an encounter, brief but potentially hazardous, with the chanteuse during their earlier case.

  Mahina appeared unaffected, but Lyra knew that underneath that façade, the police captain was likely fuming like a mad dog. “How is it that you know about Kellen’s sickness when the lab just found out about it?”

  “Oh, we’ve known at the club for some time that poor Kellen was suffering. The way he went through blood...we knew there had to be something wrong with him.” Nadja twirled the pearls around her finger.

  “I’m sure I can find someone else at the club to collaborate Kellen’s claim,” Mahina said.

  Robert smiled. “Are you so sure about that, Captain Garner? My client is a founding member of the club and a regular contributor to their charity fund. I don’t think you’ll find anyone to say anything.”

  “This isn’t going as I hoped,” Lyra said.

  Caine shook his head. “I know.”

  “And to think you listen to her music, Chief,” Jace said.

  “Not anymore he doesn’t,” Eve announced. “I tossed her CDs eight months ago.”

  Mahina tried another angle. “You drive a black Mercedes with burgundy interior, don’t you?”

  “As do a lot of other people, Captain,” Robert said, his frustration starting to show by the beads of sweat on his brow.

  Mahina picked up a paper from the table. “Actually, only fifteen other people have that exact make, model and interior color.”

  Robert chuckled. “If that’s all the police have to go on, I’m afraid this interview is over.” He stood, gathering his papers and briefcase. He slid his business card across the table to Mahina. “If you have any further questions, Captain, be sure to call me. Under no circumstances shall you speak to my client again.”

  Mahina ignored the card and glared across the table at Nadja who had yet to stand. “Where were you two nights ago between the times of seven o’clock and midnight?”

  “Why at the club, of course.”

  “Do you know anyone that can confirm that?”

  “About five or six people.” She arched a brow regally. “Would you like their names?”

  “Yes, I would.” Mahina slid a piece of paper and a pen across the table to her.

  After quickly scrawling five names down on the paper, she smoothed down her dress and stood. She smiled into the mirror. It seemed to Lyra that she was looking right at her. Lyra’s heart began to pound like a drum. It thumped in her ears and she was sure everyone in the room could hear it. She felt someone stir at her side. She glanced at Theron as he took her hand. She squeezed it.

  “Thank you for the stimulating conversation.” Nadja inclined her head. “I hope we all can do this again, soon. Oh, and Caine, I’ll be sure to see you at the Mistress’ Centennial.”

  Robert opened the door for her and she exited, her chin lifted high. Her lawyer followed her out, a parting sneer directed Mahina’s way before he closed the door behind him.

  Mahina swung around to look into the window. She shrugged. “That didn’t go very well.”
<
br />   Caine pressed the button on the wall and spoke. “Meet us in the conference room. We’ll go over what we have, what we don’t, and what we just lost.”

  With a brisk nod of her head, Mahina marched out of the interview room, purposely leaving Nadja’s lawyer’s card on the table. Lyra knew the lycan did it as a snub. Mahina was one woman a person didn’t want to be on the wrong side of. She was tenacious as a rabid dog sometimes.

  “Okay,” Caine looked at the team. “Let’s reassemble in the conference room and get a game plan going. Because this is going downhill like a freight train without brakes.”

  Mahina met them at the open door. “I’m going to the club to check out her alibi. I’ll meet up with you later.”

  Caine nodded.

  After filing out of the room, they walked down the hallway toward the conference room. The path led them by the lobby and as they neared, Lyra saw Nadja and her lawyer standing by the front desk chatting to two other people.

  The baron was in midsentence. Lyra sucked in a breath at the sight of the other woman standing with them. She was more formidable in person than Lyra ever imagined. The other woman, a golden vampiress with ink-black hair and mesmerizing eyes, stood beside Laal, but her head turned their way as they neared

  The mistress of the city, Ankara Jannali, smiled, and Lyra was too stunned to do anything but stare at the striking woman as she neared. Most vampires were beautiful in nature, but the mistress transcended that to an entirely new level. That was one of the many reasons she was on the governing body of the city. Almost too arresting to look at, Lyra had the urge to shield her eyes.

  “Lady Ankara.” Caine bowed his head. “How may I be of service?”

  She glanced briefly at each of them, then her gaze settled on Eve. Lyra could see Eve cringe away from the mistress’ intense gaze.

  “This is your wife?”

  Caine put his arm around Eve. It was both an act of comfort and protection. “Yes. This is Eve.”

  Ankara’s gaze flitted away from Eve and landed on Lyra. The amulet at her throat nearly scalded her skin. Reaching up, Lyra covered it with her hand, biting back the urge to cry out from the searing pain.