Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  There was little in there. They wouldn’t get much on him. The Order had ensured that.

  His eyes roved over the curve of the woman’s jaw and the slight pout of her red lips. Beautiful vibrant red curls hung around her face. Her skin was the fairest he had seen in a while; it was pure white, with a faint dusting of sandy-colored freckles across her cheeks and arms. In a word, she was lovely. He found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Someone rolled a cart by the door, banging it on the wall, and she jumped. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose before resuming her frantic shuffling. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was intentionally stalling to avoid looking at him.

  “You look spooked,” he commented.

  “You just remind me of someone I used to know,” she said quickly, finally glancing up at him. The steely glare in her green eyes made it clear he should keep his mouth shut. “Mr. Smith, I’m—”

  “Verika Tate.”

  She froze, her eyes widening. “What?”

  He pointed to her hips. “I read it on your badge when you walked in. What?” He grinned. “Did you get excited?”

  She pursed her lips, not replying. The hardness in her eyes began to simmer with anger. “Pissed off” was a good look on her. It only made her more beautiful.

  Something stirred within him, some emotion long forgotten.

  Desire.

  Snap out of it, you idiot. She’s a damned witch. You can’t ever forget what they’ve done to you.

  “Let’s get straight to the point,” Verika said, her strong voice reverberating throughout the room. “There are some rather sophisticated cloaking spells on you, and they’ve called me in here to break them. Now, as you may or may not know, cloaking spells can be very… tricky to break. Painful, even.” She smiled with fake sweetness. “And we wouldn’t want any harm to come to you now, would we?”

  He raised a brow, amused. And turned on. “Are you threatening me?”

  “Stating facts isn’t the same as threatening someone,” Verika said plainly. “It’s just how these things go.”

  “So, you must be pretty good if they called someone like you in when their supposed ‘experts’,” he said with air quotes, “couldn’t break the cloaking spells.”

  Her eyes glittered with pride. “Something like that.”

  He shifted his weight in the cool metal seat and propped his handcuffed hands on the chair’s arms. Leveling a challenging smirk at her, he said, “Give me your best shot, Red.”

  She blinked a few times as color rushed to her face before clearing her throat and standing.

  God, why was he still flirting with her? What the hell was his deal? She was a W.I.T.C.H. And from the looks of it a pretty powerful one at that.

  Apparently, he was a masochist, because he found the need to hear that dark, sultry voice of hers was more important than listening to his common sense. Her voice had a slight southern twang to it that her coworkers lacked. She must not be from around here. He found it incredibly alluring, like a sweet-and-sultry southern belle.

  She walked over to him, though she kept a few safe inches away.

  “I won’t bite, Red,” he said. Though I would like to do a few other things. He gave her a suggestive look that nearly made her face match her hair color.

  “I n-need you to take your shirt off,” she mumbled in a rush.

  His heart skipped a beat. “Couldn’t wait to get me naked, huh, sweetheart?”

  “Just do it!” she snapped, looking flustered.

  Verika promptly whirled and went over to a cabinet. She began taking out different sized vials of liquid. The sight of the potions sent a shiver of dread down his spine.

  She gathered what she needed and turned around, pausing. “Is something wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he murmured, his throat suddenly feeling tighter. He instinctively started to reach for his shirt hem, until the handcuffs clanked against the arms of the chair. “A little help here?”

  She blinked. “Duh,” she murmured, looking surprised that she’d asked him to undress when he clearly could not. He had a feeling she was normally one of those carefully put-together girls. And the fact he was the one unraveling her composure only made his cock throb with longing.

  Get. A. Grip.

  She stared at his hands and muttered an incantation that sent his heart into his throat. Dammit, those witches had scarred him for life. He’d probably never be able to hear another spell again without getting a little nervous.

  Verika snapped her fingers. The cuffs instantly unlocked. She removed them and tossed them onto the metal table.

  He raised his brows in question.

  “Go ahead,” she said with a smirk, placing her hands on her curvy hips. “Try to move.”

  He tried raising his arms and couldn’t. His pulse kicked up a notch as cold fear washed over him. “What did you do to me?”

  “Relax. It’s just a simple binding spell. Now arms up.”

  Not of his own doing, his arms shot into the air. His breath caught as terror seized him. He squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing hard. Behind his closed eyes, he saw a dark room. In the center, he dangled by cuffs from the ceiling, beneath a single blood-red light. Out of the darkness came a pair of long, tanned legs, along with a glittering black dress. The woman’s scarlet lips came into the light and she smiled. “You shouldn’t try to run away from your master, little pup. Didn’t I tell you I owned you?”

  She raised her palm and a dagger materialized in her hand. She slowly unsheathed it and ran her tongue along the blunt side of the blade, her cruel, ebony eyes fixed on him. “You’ve been a bad dog.”

  She raised the dagger—

  “Mr. Smith?”

  He jumped, blinking several times. His wild eyes darted about, trying to get a rein on his bearings.

  The worried face of the beautiful red-haired witch gazed at him. “Dear God, you’re sweating. And you’re clammy. Are you okay?” She grabbed a rag and pressed it against his forehead and bare chest. She must have removed his shirt while he’d been locked in the memory.

  “Just…” He swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on his breathing and hammering heart. “Just let my arms down.”

  Her brows stooped in confusion, but she snapped her fingers and his hands dropped back to the chair. He sagged forward, taking deep breaths and trying to clear his mind.

  She slowly knelt in front of him, silent for a few breaths. “Mind telling me what that was all about?”

  His throat closed up. Mutely, he shook his head. He’d avoided magic ever since he’d escaped the Order. Though he still had nightmares, and sure, he was a little jumpy, he hadn’t suspected the Order had affected him like this.

  He was seriously fucked up. And this witch, no matter how desirable, was not helping.

  Verika didn’t press him for answers. Instead, she put on a pair of latex gloves and began observing his skin. When she got to his back, she pressed her fingertips to the spot just above his left shoulder blade. “What’s this?”

  He knew what she saw. The intricate, black ink mark seemed to shimmer red in the light. Its patterns reminded him of a coiled serpent. “It’s a spell… I think.”

  “You’re saying you don’t know what it is?”

  “No.” He knew it wasn’t a tracking spell. He suspected it may be some sort of binding spell, but so far, he hadn’t felt any side effects. He had learned enough about magic in his time with the Order to know that binding spells usually brought about side effects; nausea, vomiting, amnesia, irritability, and so on.

  He felt a pair of eyes on him and he lifted his gaze.

  A woman was watching him from the door. He narrowed his eyes.

  Something flashed across the woman’s eyes and she swiftly entered the room. “Knock, knock,” she said, rapping her knuckles across the door. “Didn’t start without me, did you?”

  Verika looked up and tensed. “Emilia,” she said with forced civility. “I thought you were in Virg
inia visiting your family.”

  “I got back early.” She surveyed Elijah with cold scrutiny. Why the hell did she look so familiar? There was something about her eyes…

  The woman was tall and lithe. Her dark hair was straight and came about halfway down her back. She had olive-toned skin, a white blouse and gray dress slacks. Her glasses were red-rimmed. She looked like the sophisticated, brainy type of woman. Emilia leaned against the table and folded her arms. “So what do we have here?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” said Verika curtly.

  “Need some help?”

  “No.”

  Emilia’s mouth quirked up. It was as if she enjoyed toying with Verika.

  Elijah started to growl and then quickly stopped himself. What the hell? She’s not even your woman!

  “Well, if you say so,” Emilia said, as if she didn’t believe Verika could handle things on her own. She yawned and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m going to grab some coffee. Want some?”

  “After last time? No, thank you.”

  Elijah couldn’t help himself. “What happened last time?”

  “Oh, she tried to poison me. It was nothing a quick antidote couldn’t fix.”

  He looked right at Emilia and gave her his wickedest smile. “Sounds like a bitch.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the poison.”

  Emilia’s eyes flashed with anger. She straightened and stomped toward the door. “Have fun with Mr. Smith. I’m sure you two will get along just fine.”

  She pulled at the sleeves of her blouse, which had ridden farther up her arms after she’d crossed them. Something familiar flashed along the inside of her wrist. Her watch didn’t quite cover it up.

  It was a pentagram with a Latin word scribbled in the middle—“Rebirth”.

  The Mark of the Order.

  He knew Mistress Black had connections and eyes and ears everywhere. People liked to boast about that kind of power, but with her, it was legit. He’d suspected the witches had infiltrated the DPI, but somehow he didn’t think he’d come across one in a city like this. It was fairly large, but there were way larger cities out there.

  Terror slammed into his gut, making it harder for him to breathe.

  Right before she went out the door, Emilia turned around and flashed him an evil smile.

  She had wanted him to see her mark, wanted him to know they were watching.

  Holy shit, he had to get out of here, fast.

  “I need to leave,” he said. “The DPI isn’t as safe as you think it is.”

  Verika, who had been popping the corks off vials, paused and frowned. “What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed, and she scoffed. “Wait a minute, like, we have a mole? Now you’re just screwing with me.”

  Oh, wouldn’t he like to. Get your mind out of the gutter. He might as well accept the fact he couldn’t think straight when she was around. “I’m not screwing with you. I wouldn’t about something like this.”

  “There’s no way,” she said firmly. “There are spells in place to detect moles.”

  “And I’m sure, just like any other type of spell, that they are completely free of loopholes,” he said dryly.

  She paused and raised her chin. “I’m telling you it’s impossible.” She started to turn toward the door.

  He was grasping at straws here. He needed to get her attention. Now. “I can help you find Mistress Black.”

  She froze. A few seconds passed before she found her voice. She slowly turned around, gazing at him with suspicion. “You know where she is?”

  He nodded, never looking away.

  She pressed her lips together, deliberating. “You’re bluffing.”

  “No, I’m not. I know exactly where she is. But the property’s bewitched so no one can ever find it. Except for me.” Liar, liar, his conscience sang.

  He could see the interest in her eyes, the intense longing to believe him.

  Gotcha.

  He watched the news, heard the rumors of how every cop in the Underworld was looking for Black. Verika seemed like a fiercely loyal woman, a true cop. She’d do whatever it took to find a new lead.

  She crossed her arms. “And what is the price for this favor?”

  “That you break every last spell on me and promise to let me go once I take you to her.”

  She stared at him a beat. Then she did something totally unexpected.

  With a sultry look that set his blood ablaze, she slowly approached him. He watched how her hips swayed, imagined running his hands over them.

  His back pressed flat against the chair as she leaned over him, straining that beautiful neck so that her mouth hovered right above his in an almost-kiss.

  He held his breath and tensed, lips parted, not realizing how much he wouldn’t mind kissing her, until he found her lips less than an inch away from his.

  He froze, afraid if he moved he’d ruin the moment. So he waited.

  And waited.

  “Forget it,” she whispered, her eyes darkening. “There is no way in hell I’d ever aid a criminal.”

  He blinked. His breath left in a whoosh, like a balloon deflating, as she abruptly stood and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

  What the hell was the matter with her?

  She hadn’t even done her job yet, but she’d run like hell out of that room because she couldn’t stand another second around that man.

  It wasn’t even that she found him obnoxious or repulsive. No, on the contrary, her body had responded in an entirely unwelcome way. The way he looked at her, like he wanted her… she still felt overheated, even as she ran to the break room, grabbed a paper cup, poured herself some ice water, and chugged it. The cold liquid did nothing but make her throat hurt.

  The second she’d taken his shirt off, she’d thought… Hot damn. It was obvious Mr. Smith had taken very good care of his physique. A landscape of hardened muscles had met her hungry gaze, and she’d found it incredibly difficult to look away from him. She couldn’t get the image of his body out of her head. Worse yet, she could feel how slick her panties had gotten on the way to the break room.

  It had been a long time since she’d wanted to have sex with a man. She simply didn’t have time for dating and the drama that usually went with it.

  Or, at least, that’s the excuse she kept feeding herself. Deep down, she knew it was because she was scared of getting her heart snapped in half again. Leaving Nik had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. But when it became clear that he was never going to mark her, she couldn’t think of a way that this could end well for either of them. In the end, she’d ultimately had to cut him loose, for both their sakes.

  Verika poured herself another cup of water and gulped it down.

  “Feeling all hot and bothered by Mr. Sexy Werewolf?” Emilia asked, coming up from behind her with a steaming cup of coffee.

  Verika’s teeth grated. This was so not how she pictured her morning going. “No. I’m just thirsty.” She tried going around Emilia, but she cut her off.

  Verika hated that they worked in the same department. It also didn’t help that Emilia was so damned skinny. Verika was comfortable with her weight, which was a little on the plush and curvy side, but she never could quite shake the desire to wear skin-tight clothes without feeling self-conscious. And Emilia liked to show off.

  Verika swore that as soon as the witch mafia case was through, she was so going to move. No more Emilia, no more bullshit. A fresh start was in order.

  Emilia flashed a malicious smile at her. “Any luck cracking those cloaking spells?”

  Verika raised a brow. “Why are you so interested in this? This isn’t even your case.”

  “It is now. The chief called me in to help you out.”

  Great. That stung a little. Verika made a mental note to talk to her boss once she was done with Mr. Smith. If he was losing his faith in her abilities, then she might as well pack up and transfer to a different
department in another city now.

  Determined not to let Emilia see how shaken up she was, Verika said smoothly, “Good. We’ll get finished in half the time. I’ll meet you back there in five.”

  Emilia’s eyes flashed with anger at the dismissal. “You should be thankful a real witch is going to be there to supervise you, in case something goes wrong.”

  “Obviously, I don’t require supervision, seeing as I’m a pay grade above you.”

  Emilia’s face turned red. “For now.” With that, she whirled about and marched out of the room, nearly knocking over a petite blond witch—Rosie—standing near the door.

  Rosie turned a worried look toward Verika. “That must be Emilia.”

  “Yep.” The “p” made a popping noise.

  “She’s… charming.”

  “I could think of a few other descriptions,” Verika muttered darkly.

  Rosie shifted her weight. “Is she giving you a hard time again?”

  Verika sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yes and no. It’s nothing outside of the ordinary. It’s just been a tough morning.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Verika smiled at her friend. “Are you enjoying your first day at the job?”

  The younger girl smiled and vigorously nodded her head. “Oh, yes! It’s amazing! I mean, I know I’m only a secretary for now, but I’m hoping I can move into the lab department soon.”

  “I’m sure you will. You always know the most at our meetings. More than our illustrious leader, sometimes.”

  Verika had met Rosie at her weekly spellbook club meetings. The girl was new to the area, and although she was only twenty, she was a skilled Blue Witch. Though her affinity lay with water magic, she was knowledgeable about every other kind of magic, as well as being a living and breathing grimoire. The two had started talking and soon couldn’t shut up about their love for witchcraft.

  Rosie blushed at Verika’s compliment. “I really appreciate you getting me this job.”

  Verika waved away her thanks. “Don’t think anything of it. We could use more people like you around here.”

  Rosie beamed. “Are you coming to the meeting tonight?”