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

by Nova Archer

  Four colored spotlights flashed on pointing in four different directions. One red light moved near Theron as a path was made through the crowd by a person walking on stilts. Covered by long red gauzy veils, the form moved to the beat of the drums cutting a route through the murmuring throng of people toward the center of the room. For a moment Theron watched the spectacle, just as mesmerized as everyone else by the visually stunning characters moving through the room, their stilts so tall it was as if they walked on the air itself.

  Theron had the pleasure of seeing Danse de la Lune before when the acrobatic performing troupe had made an appearance in Nouveau-Monde. The show was spectacular, but his mind and gaze needed to be on Lyra. Shivers raced up and down his back. Something wasn’t right. He could sense it all around him, despite the haunting music starting to play or the collective enthrallment of the swaying crowd.

  Jostling for position, Theron craned his neck to peer over the heads of the crowd toward the buffet table. He couldn’t see Lyra. Panic took hold of him. Heart racing, he pushed through the crowd, searching for her. Although the room was too dark and the crowd too big, he had to do something. He’d never forgive himself if something had happened to her. He was supposed to be protecting her. Fine job so far, he thought disgusted with himself.

  Suddenly all the spotlights swiveled toward the center of the ballroom. Then the music changed. Instead of a rhythmic drumming, a haunting chorus of chanting voices reverberated through the room. The sound made the hair on the back of Theron’s neck rise.

  Next came a simple yet eerie tune played on a piano. And above it all came a single clear glass-breaking note sung in pure perfection. The sound put Theron’s teeth on edge. He knew that voice. It could belong to only one person—Nadja Devanshi.

  The moment she started to sing, he sensed something else at play. Power unlike anything he’d experienced before surged over the crowd like an electrical wave. It pushed and prodded at him, uncomfortably edging at his mind.

  He had to get to Lyra and now. There was something in the lyrics, a spell of some kind, and he was certain it was directed at his little witch.

  As he moved passed the guests, he noticed the looks of enthrallment on most faces. Some faces had tears streaking their cheeks. Whatever was in Nadja’s song was affecting most of those in the room. Which, Theron figured, was the point.

  Luckily he’d learned to build up resistance to some of the more interesting vampiric traits. He had to, living with an overpowering, manipulative vampire with immense power. His father was a master of exploitation through whatever means he could use.

  As Theron moved toward one of the exits, something made him stop. A cold breeze brushed over his skin and hair. The ends of his hair moved. He swiveled around to find the source of the breeze, but found nothing that could’ve made it.

  Look and you will see.

  The voice came from his left. He swiveled in that direction but found no one whispering in his ear.

  Look! Turn around Theron and see.

  Startled, Theron turned to his right, his gaze sweeping the open ballroom door and his eye caught something of interest. A group of people were gathered in the hallway, all of their interest directed toward the floor. Then he caught sight of something that crushed the air from his lungs. A pair of green shoes and the silky green fabric of a dress.

  Charging past the last of the crowd, he burst through the exit and rushed to the small murmuring group. He pushed past an elderly man to see Lyra laying unconscious on the floor, a woman on her knees patting Lyra’s cheeks to try and rouse her.

  Theron crouched next to her body and smoothed a hand over her forehead. “Lyra. Come, ma chérie, wake up.”

  She stirred under his touch. Eyelids fluttered open and he released the breath he had been holding when he saw recognition in her gaze.

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  Theron helped her sit and rubbed his hand up and down her back. “I’m not sure.” He glanced around at the small crowd surrounding them.

  The woman who had been kneeling next to Lyra spoke up. “I was coming from the washroom and found her lying on the floor.”

  “Was anyone around her?”

  The woman shook her head.

  As Theron helped Lyra to her feet, Caine and Eve came rushing out of the ballroom.

  “Are you all right?” Caine asked as he eyed her from head to toe.

  Lyra nodded. “I’m fine. I have a headache is all.”

  “Do you know what happened?”

  “I came out of the ballroom to get some air when the music started. That’s the last thing I remember.”

  “Has she been spelled?” Caine asked Theron.

  Theron looked Lyra over, placing his hand on her arm then moving it down to her hand. He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything.”

  Lyra tried to shrug off his hand, but he held firm onto her. “I’m fine. Really. I just need to get out of here. Nadja’s voice is making me sick.”

  “Were you able to find anything of use?” Caine asked.

  Lyra shook her head, avoiding everyone’s gaze. “No, I was interrupted before I could find anything. She does have the same book as Theron, though. The one with the symbols.”

  Caine nodded. “Okay, that might be enough to get a warrant.”

  “I’ll take Lyra home. I have a car waiting at the door.”

  She glanced at him and must’ve seen the determination on his face because she didn’t argue, but went with him without comment.

  Twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of Lyra’s house. The driver got out and opened Lyra’s door. She slid out without a word and walked, shoes hanging from a finger, up the walk and to the door. Theron followed her. He wasn’t going to leave her alone, not now. Not with everything that had happened. He needed to make sure she was safely tucked in bed before he’d let his guard down.

  Without a backward glance, Lyra unlocked the door and walked in, leaving it open for Theron. Doing that brought down the magical wards surrounding her house, so he could enter without hindrance. He went in, locking it behind him. Dropping her shoes on the floor, she wandered across the living room, and disappeared down the hall. He waited for her to come back out, but she didn’t.

  He waited five minutes before he moved down the hallway. He passed the bathroom. The door was open but Lyra wasn’t inside. He continued to another open doorway—her bedroom.

  Stopping at the threshold, he peered into the room. Lamplight revealed Lyra sitting on her bed, staring at her feet. She didn’t look up when he moved further into the room.

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, next to her. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  She glanced at him and frowned. “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s your fault anyway.” She ran her foot over the carpet, making a design in the fibers.

  “Is it now?”

  “Yes. I feel so out of control when I’m near you.” She sighed. “No one’s made me feel that way before. I don’t like it.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, you drive me insane too.”

  Her lips lifted into a smile and she nudged him with her elbow. “Great, so we both drive each other nuts. So, what are we going to do about it?”

  “Give in.”

  Cupping her around the neck, Theron leaned in and touched his lips to hers. It was gentle, hesitant at first. But when she moaned, he deepened it, sweeping his tongue into her mouth.

  Lifting her hands, she buried them in his hair and held on as he took her mouth. Teeth, tongue, lips. He couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted like the champagne she had sipped and a fresh cool breeze. Refreshing, invigorating. She made his heart race and his stomach flip over. No other woman had been able to illicit such sensations from him before.

  Nibbling on her bottom lip, he then pressed kisses to her chin, over her nec
k to her ear where he knew she liked to be caressed. With his tongue, he made little circles just under her earlobe. He was rewarded with her quick gasps of pleasure.

  “Theron,” she panted.

  Lifting his head, he cupped her cheeks and stared into her eyes. “Please don’t ask me to stop. I won’t be able to bear it.”

  “Then don’t.” She nipped at his lips. “I’m yours.”

  Covering her mouth with his, he ran his hands over her back. He needed to touch her skin now. To feel the silkiness of her flesh beneath his palms.

  His fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress and although impatient to feel her, he slowly pulled it down, torturing himself. Once open, he gripped the two edges and slid them down, off her shoulders and down her arms. Her breath caught in her throat as she pulled her arms out of the dress. A thin silky camisole, the color of emeralds, covered her breasts.

  Theron leaned down and pressed his lips to her shoulder, trailing his tongue along her collarbone to her other shoulder. Lyra let her head fall back as he nibbled and tasted the hollow of her throat and worked his way down.

  The lace of the camisole flirted at the swell of her breasts. Pushing it away with his tongue, Theron edged down lower still. He could feel her heart race under the press of his mouth.

  Hooking his fingers around the straps of her camisole, he pulled them down. Achingly slow, he revealed more of her flesh. Inch by inch, he moved the fabric down to finally reveal her perfect pale breasts.

  “Magnifigue.” Blushing, she raised her arms to cover herself. Theron set his hands on top of hers. “You are too beautiful to hide, ma petite sociere.”

  Holding her hands, he brought them down to her sides, then kissed her, slowly taking her down to the mattress. Shuffling her in toward the middle of the bed, he settled in beside her, kissing and nibbling on her delicious mouth.

  Sitting up, he gripped the edges of her dress and slid it the rest of the way off. Underneath, she wore only a matching pair of green cotton panties. He drank her in, memorizing every detail of her stunning body—every curve and slope. He wanted to press his mouth to every part of her, to taste her creamy skin on his tongue.

  She reached for him, and he linked his hands with hers. “I want to see you Theron. Every part of you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Smiling, he released her hands, and unbuttoned his shirt. Shrugging out of it, he tossed it theatrically on the floor. She smiled, loving how he made her feel so at ease with his playfulness. It also helped she was still feeling the effects of the alcohol she had consumed. It lowered her defenses, lessened her inhibitions. She gloried in the feeling of being able to free herself to Theron.

  The light from her bedside lamp played over the rippling muscles of his chest. From the way he carried himself and the lithe way he moved, Lyra knew he’d be lean and powerful, but she had no real idea until now.

  His chest was muscular, defined, with hard, washboard abs. She wanted to trace her finger over every ridge and dip. A light sprinkling of dark hair lined his sternum leading down to the waistband of his trousers.

  Hesitant, yet feeling bold, Lyra lifted her hand and feathered a finger down the path. The skin covering his steel-like muscles was smooth but the hair under the pad of her finger was prickly. Theron shuddered under her touch and she smiled, feeling the power of her stroke. She wondered what other sensations she could pull from him using only her fingers.

  Sitting up, and keeping her gaze on his, she unbuttoned his pants and lowered the zipper. Her hands shook as she tugged at the fabric, freeing his erection. Taking in a deep breath, she glanced down at him and sighed.

  Not knowing what to expect, he was more beautiful than she thought he’d be. She’d seen men before in magazines but never experienced the same thrill she felt now. Maybe it was because it was Theron. He made all the difference in the world.

  “Touch it, Lyra.” His voice was low and thick with desire.

  She did as he asked and wrapped her hand around his shaft. He groaned harshly the second she made contact. Lyra reveled in her power to elicit such a response, from a simple touch of her hand on his cock. He was like velvet steel, hard and soft at the same time. Curious, she explored the rest of his rigid length. She touched, caressed, and massaged every inch of him until he grabbed her hand, stilling her movements.

  “Enough,” he growled.

  Keeping her hand in his, he pressed her back onto the bed, taking her mouth once again. When he swept his tongue over hers, tasting, teasing with every stroke, it was her turn to groan. She could kiss him for hours.

  After one more thorough caress of his lips, Theron sat back and tore his pants the rest of the way off. Kneeling beside her hip, he ran his hands over her breasts, flicking her nipples with his thumbs. Jolts of electric heat surged over her as he rubbed her taut peaks, pulling and pinching.

  Leaning down, he swirled his tongue over one nipple then the other. He did it over and over, alternating between the two, giving each one equal heated attention, until she was mewling in rapture. Finally, he wrapped his lips around one of her breasts and suckled on her. With every pull on his mouth, she felt an answering tug between her thighs. She was like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode.

  Relinquishing his hold on her nipple, Theron sat up and ran his hands over her stomach and down her thighs. With each stroke, she lifted her hips, arching into his touch. She was on fire. Liquid heat swirled at her center. She was going to burn from the inside out if he didn’t hurry and quench her smoldering desire.

  Keeping his eyes on her face, he hooked fingers into the band of her panties. Breathe hitching, she gasped as he slowly eased them over her hips and down her legs. When they were completely off, Theron caressed her with his eyes and his hands. He went on a slow ascent of her legs, from her ankles to her thighs. When his thumbs brushed the sensitive inner skin between her legs, she jolted off the bed.

  “I’m burning. Oh Goddess, I can’t handle it.” Aching, she wrapped her hands around his arms; unsure what she wanted him to do. Fast, slow, she couldn’t decide. The hot sensations he created in her body left her spinning, whirling out of control.

  “Hold on, bien-aimée. I won’t hurt you.”

  Nodding, she dug her fingers into his arms. She trusted him with her body, and with her heart. She knew he’d never intentionally hurt her. Not now, not ever.

  Knocking her legs apart with his knee, he knelt between them, keeping his hands on her hips, rubbing his thumbs in circles over her skin.

  “Bend your knees for me, Lyra. I want to see all of you.”

  His words inflamed her even more. She didn’t think it was possible to feel so wanton, so lustful, from a few kisses, and soft caresses. But it was the craving she saw in Theron’s eyes that completely took her under desire’s spell. The fact he wanted her so badly—made her feel even more desirable.

  Hesitantly, she brought her knees up, feeling open and vulnerable. But at the same time, it revved her up, made her sex ache with need that much more.

  Sitting back, Theron’s gaze traveled over her. Down her torso over her hips, to the center of her need. Biting her lip, she watched as his eyes drank her in. The color of his eyes darkened, and the look on his face was one of longing and hunger.

  “Ma petite sociere, so beautiful.”

  He trailed his fingers from her knee down her thigh. Feathering light caresses to her skin. Her flesh vibrated as he neared her sex. She sucked in a breath as he slid a finger over her mound and slipped inside her soft folds.

  Jolts of pleasure surged over her. She’d never felt anything so sensory before, so intense. She arched her back as he stroked her. Battering at her senses, more fervent delight jolted her system. She rode the wave while Theron caressed her more, and then boldly glided a finger into her heat.

  She cried out, tangling her hands into the sheets on the bed. More pleasure washed over her as he stroked and manipulated her, adding another finger, alternating between fast and slow. She
was dizzy by the time she realized he had removed his fingers and was nuzzled against her opening.

  With one hand he pushed her leg back, spreading her wide. The other hand slowly worked the round knob of his erection back and forth along her slick folds. Biting her lip, she arched her back urging him further. However much she knew it would hurt, she wanted him inside.

  “Relax, darling. I’ll go slow.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  She could tell he struggled with restraint. His arms shook and sweat rolled down his face to drip onto her belly. It was an obvious effort for him to not ram into her body, yet he took care to go slow. Could she push him far enough that he would lose control? Did she possess the power to drive him mad? The tantalizing thought filtered through her mind. She hoped to find out.

  With a slow practiced stroke, he inched into her then stopped. She released her breath allowing her body to adjust to him. She wondered when she would feel the pain. All she felt was glorious pleasure surging through her with each careful press of his shaft inside her body.

  Leaning forward, he pushed a little more of himself into her. She gripped his shoulders, digging her fingers in. “I won’t break, Theron. I promise.”

  Clamping his eyes shut, he fell forward and drove the rest of the way into her. Something inside her ripped and she felt a stab of pain flare through her thighs and over her belly.

  Reaching between them, Theron slid his fingers over her, caressing her gently, easing her pain. This thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbed her there. The pain receded and only pleasure washed through her.

  She wrapped her arms around him as he started to move inside her. Slow at first, then harder, faster until he rode her hard. Moving his head he found her mouth and kissed her hard. For every stroke of his tongue he matched it with each thrust inside her core. Hooking her legs over his hips, she arched up to meet him.

  He buried his hands in her hair as he drove into her, taking her to the edge. Nibbling along her jaw, she could feel the scrape of his fangs on her skin. It made her shiver with a different type of pleasure. To know he could use them on her, to sink them into her and taste her blood. It was decadent and dangerous. That she could feel that with a man, this man, and still feel safe, was an exhilarating sensation.