by Terina Adams
Locke glanced down at the woman, whom appeared fine, then stepped around her to teach some lessons. His lessons were quick and required no words. When he was done, both bled from their heads.
The woman remained on the floor staring up at him, so he righted her stool, moved it out the way and crouched down beside her. He stared at her for a few beats. She blinked and ducked her head, making a show of inspecting her top, as if expecting to find drink spillage. He watched her, with an amused smile, willing her to look into his eyes again. She had the most unusual shade of blue, a rich, aqueous blue like the sky on a hot day.
He waited for her eyes to reach his again, ignoring Belinda still sitting on her stool in front of him, now fidgeting with her hands.
“I don’t see any stains, so I think you can leave your shirt alone.”
She glanced up and a thrill shot through him as quick as his anger had, but with a far more desirable effect. She frowned, wrinkling her brow into cute annoyance. A woman with short tolerance. Probably equipped with a smart mouth to match the brief flash of anger. A woman he would enjoy playing with. Would she bite him if he dared to touch her without being asked?
He reached for her upper arm, intent on helping her stand. She accepted his help, flinging her purse strap over her shoulder, but her eyes spoke weariness. He was accustomed to batting eyelashes, flirty smiles and blushing cheeks, but she reeked of caution, and something else he couldn’t place.
Her arm was warm and magnetic, like he couldn’t break the link, or more to the point, like he didn’t want to break it. She avoided his eyes, choosing to look elsewhere as she rose, but he glared at her all the same, hard, wanting to penetrate through and find what it was that captured him so.
Once she was standing, she pulled her arm away. Something departed from him along with her warmth. He stared at his palm a long moment, tracing the feeling, closing his eyes to center his concentration—until he understood.
His eyes flicked to hers, boring through the blue. She looked up at him, confusion on her face. Behind her, Belinda looked set to blow, or cry, her face flushing an unattractive pink.
He stepped toward her, and she stepped back, so he shook his head and smiled a warning. He moved closer still, and she disobeyed by moving another step back, which was good because she was now pressed against the bar. He shot his arms out either side of her, using his body as a barrier, and craned down toward her. She looked up, her lips slightly parted, but not the sort of parting that signaled she wanted a kiss.
Too bad.
He captured her mouth and, without invitation, plunged his tongue inside. Her mouth was soft, warm and a shocked gasp escaped, vibrating through him on the way out. He planned a short, demanding kiss, designed to stamp his authority, before pulling away, but now he had her mouth where he wanted it he found it hard to release. Her hands were caught between them, and she pushed against his chest, which felt like moth wings fluttering. However, she had teeth, and he wouldn’t put it passed her to bite, so he released her, but only far enough, allowing himself to whisper in her ear. “Hello, little witch.”
8
The panic choked her, running away with her words. It must have transferred to her face because he smiled something straight from hell and remained close, trapping her to the bar, silently conveying his thoughts—she wasn’t going away. For a crazy moment Selene forgot who she was, High Priestess of her coven, now embalmed with Hades gift. She was a match for this Fae. Although in that second the knowledge fled her.
“Welcome. It’s been a long time since any of your kind have graced Hells Gate. Now why would that be? Perhaps a healthy sense of self-preservation. But you, gorgeous, must have something I’m unaware of. In fact, I would guarantee it. You see, I’ve never felt this much power before.”
Her emotions, on automatic, heated her face before she managed to wrangle them under control. The shock radiated throughout her body. Jesus Christ, how could he sense that? This was something none of the witches knew about the Fae.
“You’re here, which is not a smart move. But I’m guessing you’re probably smart enough to know using your powers in the heart of our territory will make things messy for you. So, we can leave your presence a secret between you and me.”
Her fear vanished, replaced by rising anger, matching his arrogance. She was going to find immense joy in pricking his inflated confidence.
“Honey?” The blonde, he’d been cozied up to only ten minutes ago, attempted to gain his attention. But he’d forgotten about her, his eyes remaining locked on Selene’s mouth. She achieved her aim, to catch the attention of a Fae, and she was yet to use her enhanced power. One notch to her.
“Hey, anyone in there.” The blonde was persistent. Her words finally broke through, gaining his attention. She smiled and gave a little shrug, perhaps unsure of how to turn this fast flipped situation back to her advantage.
“Sorry, babe, I’m busy. You’re going to have to try someone else.”
The look she gave Selene would wither iron. That’s the Fae for you, so don’t blame me, hon. The woman’s ego sat low, way low, on her priority scale, so Selene dismissed the bristling vibes and turned her attention back to the big guy currently sandwiching her between himself and the bar.
“You’re right, I am smart. I’ve come in peace,” she held her hands out either side of her, as much as her cramped confines would let her, “shall we say?”
“Is peace in a witches vocabulary when it comes to Fae?”
She allowed her most charming smile. “Not normally, no. But I know how to be peaceful when I want to be, and since I’ve come here hoping to learn secrets, I’m going to be a meek little mouse.”
She leaned closer, at the same time turning her mind inward. There she found the power she needed. Grasping hold, she streamed it outward toward him, tunneling into his mind thoughts of seduction, things she found erotic and the feelings they produced.
He stared hard at her before he blinked and rubbed a hand over his face as if drunk and only now discovering where he was. He refocused on her and she leaned in closer still, capturing his green in her blue. Again she conjured emotions. Only this time, she thought of what it felt like for her to touch a man, the excitement of sliding her hand over his body, followed by her mouth, and the thrill of seeing him weakened by her skill.
She smiled up at Locke and licked her lips. His eyes briefly flared and greedily followed her tongue. She ran a finger down his chin, over his Adam's apple, only to halt at the beginning of his black shirt. Then she cocked her finger and motioned him toward her. When he craned down low enough she smiled again. “Now, you have a few secrets I want to know.”
He went to speak, but she placed a finger over his lips to silence him. He frowned and brought his hand up, grasped hers and pulled it away. For a fraction of a second her fear flared, but she grabbed hold of it before she projected it his way, breaking the spell she cast. She doubled her concentration, leaning into him, placing her palm along his cheek and thought about making love to him. She could have thought of any man, preferably one she had made love to before since those emotions would be readily available, but for some alarming reason his face and his body popped into her mind while she conjured the image.
It didn’t matter, the effect was the same, if not better. The lines of his face softened, relaxing into the express a man gives before he is about to kiss a woman when there was nothing but sex on his mind.
She allowed him to continue holding her hand, although the warmth from his palm was unnerving her and drawing her focus. She dared not become commanding or authoritative again, since it seemed to trigger his release from her bind.
This was not the best place for the two of them to be speaking. If at any time he managed to free himself from her web, she would be in deep trouble. She needed to lure him away to somewhere more secure where he would be at her mercy without the need for her mental control. Trying to influence a Fae was tiring, even with the help of Hades. There was only so much
mental eroticism she could evoke before the ideas ran dry, and the answers she hoped to receive from the questions she planned to ask would no doubt shrivel any idea of sex—the only thing that seemed to have great influence over him.
“I think we need somewhere private.”
His mouth curled into the devil’s smile. “I’ve got just the place.” He turned to go, pulling by the hand he still held.
She jerked her hand back to get his attention. “No.”
Again his frown appeared and his lips tightened. Gees, this Fae was touchy about being commanded.
“I mean, I know the perfect place.” She stepped forward, her body brushing against the front of his. “Hidden from everyone. It will be just you and me for as long as you want.”
His eyes fixed on her mouth, following every syllable her lips made. “Is it far?” His voice heavy.
“Just a short drive.”
He reared back, jaw tense. “Drive? We don’t have to leave the club. There’s rooms suitable enough—”
She ran her free hand down his chest in an attempt to soothe his flaring temper, at the same time trying not to notice the taunt definition of his muscles.
Trust her to pick a Fae with subordinate issues. She mustered more erotic imagery, focusing on the emotions they generated in her and projected them his way. The tension ebbed under her hands, and he turned to face her square on, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing her flat against him.
Okay, perhaps her erotica was a little too strong. Maybe she needed to stop using him as fodder for her carnal fantasies and focus on one of her past less than fantastic sexual moments. Why the hell was she using him anyway? This was a job for Jet or Nyx, not her. They would have a Fae eating off the toe of their boot if they so wanted it, with or without the mind manipulation.
No backing out now, kiddo.
“We won’t run the risk of being interrupted where I’m thinking of going. Just you and me and all the wicked ideas you have in your little mind. What do you say?”
“I say I love a woman who doesn’t give in.”
“And I say we’re wasting time.”
He grabbed her wrist and led her through the crowd. His grip tightened as if he feared she would pull her hand back and bolt, or perhaps he didn’t want to lose her in the throng of people. Creating a clearing wasn’t hard when you relied on a member of Hells Gate to make it for you. People parted in a fluid flow and then closed around them, swallowing their trail. The distance to the bar hadn’t seemed so long on arrival, but the return to the entrance took forever until finally the Fae pushed open the heavy metal door, and they escaped out into the night.
Only a few remained in the car park, how she preferred it. Luck sidled with her so far, and no one had intervened as they departed. When he revealed her as a witch, she'd been afraid every other Fae inside Hells Gate would single her out as if she wore her identity like a neon sign around her neck. How the hell this one knew her secret, she couldn’t guess. She carried the might of Hades, which gave her the ability to weed out the Fae by the signature of death, or absence of in their case. What was his excuse?
The big guy started leading her toward the line up of bikes. Oh no you don’t, buddy.
“I have a car.”
“We take my bike.”
She pulled at his hand hoping to halt his strides. “I had a bad experience on a bike once and now I’m afraid of them.” Everything apart from the bad experience was true. “It would dampen my mood if I arrived frozen in fear.” To help nudge his decision, she imagined a motorbike accident involving lots of twisted chrome and buckled wheels. For affect, she added bloody bodies amongst the wreckage. She struggled to find the right emotions to accommodate the visions, but at such short notice she made do with what welled up.
He stared at her for way too long, and her concentration began to swim from lack of oxygen, until her automatic response kicked in and forced a breath.
He stepped into her. “Hold on tight, and nothing will happen to you. I swear.” He began marching again in the direction of his bike.
Bloody hell. This Fae’s head was thicker than brick.
“But you don’t know where you’re going.”
“I was kinda hoping you would tell me.”
“How am I supposed to do that on the back of a bike?”
“Yell.”
And what about her car? Her choices were to either leave it here and return another night to retrieve it, or get one of her sisters to do it for her, which was out of the question. Coming here was a stupid idea. More in line with something Nyx or Jet would concoct. There was no way either of them were going to find out what she’d done.
There was always Dami. She could be trusted to keep Selene’s shameful secret, but even the thought of revealing the ruse to Dami colored her cheeks pink. And this Fae was not playing by the rules. Even with the added allure of Hades power he was near impossible to influence.
Selene allowed herself to be led toward his bike. A shudder ran through her once they were standing close. She really did hate riding on bikes.
He tossed her a spare helmet. “To save your pretty little head.”
“Head north on the road to Darnet. Take a left at the T-junction and continue for a couple of miles. You’ll see a sign on your right for Hedge Row. You can turn off there. The road soon turns to gravel, so I hope you know how to handle her properly.”
“Gorgeous. I know how to handle any female properly.”
We’ll see about that. “Keep going on the gravel and you’ll get there.”
She decided to give instructions now rather than lean over to yell them in his ear while traveling at an unsafe speed. She preferred the idea of hiding behind his broad back. Who the hell wanted to see approaching danger when you were powerless to stop it? Sometimes ignorance was better.
Once hidden under his helmet, he threw a leg over his bike, righted her and started the engine. She roared to life, and settled down to a purr, tamed. Selene hesitated, until he looked over his shoulder. She slid on behind him and moved in close, sandwiching her purse between them. Sure, she could’ve done the sulky thing because he’d chosen to do it his way and refused to hang on, but she wasn’t that dumb or arrogant. As he pushed her back, Selene wrapped her arms tight around his middle with the understanding he would be prizing her frozen fingers off at the other end.
The cold wind took her breath, and she snuggled up closer to his body. Because her head rested to the side, she caught glimpses of scenery whiz by. Houses shrouded in the night. Streetlights came and went, some houses bathed in light, others, further on, lost in the dark, until another streetlight appeared. Soon the houses began to spread out replaced by homes on bigger acreage, until they too thinned. Once they reached the outer limits of the city the streetlights disappeared. They were cast into the night.
The bike slowed, gears changed down, then the bike leaned left. Because she was plastered against his back, Selene followed his movement. Out of the corner, they accelerated again to top speed, but in no time, or so it seemed, he was changing back down through the gears.
Half a mile or less they would arrive. So far everything had gone as planned, although you could say it was anything but smooth. Would he play the way she wanted him too? Nice and obedient like a docile dog. Hardly docile, but maybe she could wrangle with his mind enough to get what she wanted—an explanation of the girl’s importance and her location.
At least the Fae had enough wits to slow the bike down on the gravel. This place was known for small darting creatures at night.
The stone cottage had been Selene's grandmother's, handed down to her when her grandmother finally had the grace to die after terrorizing everyone for over a century. Grandmother Maureen’s gift of mind manipulation, for which Selene inherited, became disastrous in the end when she began making all the staff at Wellsons old aged care facility preform bizarre rituals, thinking she was still High Priestess of her coven.
The cottage was Selene’s pri
vate escape. She filled it with all the things that nurtured her. And here she was, allowing a Fae to enter her private sanctum. Grandmother Maureen was likely turning in her grave. This guy was reduced by her control making him half a Fae, so perhaps it didn’t count.
She sat up straight, looking over his shoulder in time to catch the bike lights wash over the side of the cottage. Her heart jigged a little dance. Arriving here always did that to her. Normally she arrived on her own to savor the solitude and breathe out from the duties of High Priestess and the stress of controlling two of her wayward members. Now, however, she brought the stress with her, riding up front, larger than life and more difficult than both Jet and Nyx combined.
The bike engine died. She took it as a signal to climb off, first reminding her hands they were supposedly under her control. Before she removed them he placed his over the top. They were warm, and the heat transferred to hers. After a few moments he plied them from his waist and released them.
She got off and attempted to remove her helmet, but the chill from the ride sunk in deep and a short time in his warm hands was not enough. He swung his leg over, removed his helmet and, apparently understanding her difficulty, came over to help her. It took seconds for him to free her and hook the helmet over the handlebars. He came back toward her, taking her hands in his again and bringing them to his lips, where he held them, using his warm mouth and hands to do a proper job of chasing out the cold.
In the dark his eyes were black sockets. Thank god. This was too intimate already. If she could see his eyes as well it would be like a forerunner to sex, the last thing on her agenda of activities tonight, or any night, with him, ever. The guy was aggressive, arrogant, cunning, impossible to control—she didn’t have enough fingers to compile her list.
“I think they may work now.” He whispered the words against her hands, and for a terrible moment some secret little hunger woke inside. She snatched her hands back.
