by King, Thayer
Chapter Two
Ronan’s mouth dropped open. He was a few minutes early for his date with Nikita and he’d fully expected to have to wait for her. In his experience with the fairer sex, they were never ready on time. Nikita whipping the door open as he climbed the porch steps had surprised him a little. But it was her appearance that had him stunned speechless.
Dressed from head to toe in black, she looked far different from the cute imp he was used to seeing. Gone were the loose t-shirts and baggy shorts. Tonight she wore skin tight jeans that encased her legs like a second skin. Her sleeveless blouse had a frilly collar and was transparent at the top. The fit was snug, hugging a generous bosom. A deep V in the blouse revealed the caramel curves of her breasts, making his palms sweat and his mouth water.
Ronan forced his gaze up to her face. She’d released her customary ponytail and her hair floated about her shoulders in a wild riot of curls. Thick eyeliner emphasized the catlike shape of her eyes and gave them a dramatic flair. Her ears sported five earrings a piece, three in each lobe and two at the uppermost tips. She’d put on a shiny plum lip gloss that made her full juicy lips appear wet.
Still mute, Ronan held out the bouquet of pink roses he’d purchased for her. Seeing her like this, he knew the flowers were inappropriate. Conventional gifts would not impress the woman standing before him.
She accepted them with a small smile. As her fingers closed around the group of stems, he noticed her black nail polish. It was an interesting combination of shiny and matte finishes. “Thank you.” She paused. “I’ll put these in water and I’ll be right back.”
He stepped forward, expecting to be invited indoors, but she closed the door in his face with a snap. When she returned, Mrs. Williams’s cat shot out of the house, almost tripping her. Ronan caught her about her upper arms, his hand covering a claw shaped arm bracelet.
“I hate cats,” she said, her tone vehement. He laughed. He’d seen her sitting on the porch many an evening with Minx in her lap, her hand stroking the cat’s orange fur.
“You look lovely,” he finally managed. This close he could smell her sweet jasmine scent. His cock bucked in his pants. It was going to be a long evening if he couldn’t control himself. He cleared his throat. “I’d planned to grill steaks at my place, but seeing you, maybe we should go out.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Your place?” She inspected him, her large dark eyes travelling over every inch of him before returning to his face. Studying him in silence, she finally nodded. “That will be fine as long as you understand. You keep your hands to yourself and I’ll keep mine to myself.”
Ronan had the distinct impression that he was being threatened. It was funny really since her head barely reached his shoulders despite the fact that she was wearing a pair of wickedly high heels. But he nodded his acquiescence. He would never hurt a woman. His mother had taught him to love and respect women. His father had taught him to cherish and protect them. “Gotcha. Don’t worry,” he added with a wink, “I don’t put out on a first date.” The corners of her succulent lips softened but she didn’t smile.
Appreciating the gentle sway of her hips, Ronan let Nikita lead the way across the yard to his house. He’d left the door unlocked. He swung it open and invited her inside. Her gaze swept over her surroundings. He felt sure that she missed nothing. His decorating style was simple. A leather couch faced the wall. In front of it sat a wood coffee table that he’d made while in high school. Beyond that, his pride and joy, his mammoth flat screen television was mounted in the perfect viewing position. He didn’t do adornment. There were no pillows or knick knacks. An empty planter sat in the corner, the ficus his mother had given him as a housewarming present having long given up the ghost.
He led the way through the kitchen. “Would you like a drink? I have beer, wine, and soda.”
“I’ll just have water.”
He took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with ice and water for her. “You don’t drink?” Her response was a noncommittal shrug as she accepted the cool glass. He arched a brow but she was mum. Opening the fridge, he removed the plastic container containing the steaks he’d seasoned earlier. He’d prepared the grill before going over to pick her up. Snagging a can of beer in his other hand, he kicked the refrigerator door closed.
Nikita followed him from the kitchen onto the back deck. He’d left cooking utensils beside the grill. The steaks made a satisfactory hissing sound as he used tongs to put them on the grill. He added potatoes wrapped in foil and closed the lid. “Have a seat.”
She glanced at the deck chairs and chose the glider. He grinned and then sat beside her. Popping open his can a beer, he took a sip. “Not much of a talker, are you?” In his experience women liked to talk unless they were shy. Nikita didn’t impress him as an introvert. In fact her attire screamed the opposite.
“I like listening.” She smiled. “You learn more that way.”
“I’d like to learn more about you. You know I’m a carpenter. What do you do for a living?”
“I work in the family bakery.”
Ronan had just taken a sip of beer. He had a hard time not choking on the small amount of liquid. Eyeing her, he rasped, “You work in a bakery?”
“It’s the family business.”
She didn’t look like any baker he’d ever seen. He could imagine their display cases filled with black frosted skull shaped cookies. “What do you bake?”
“The usual: cakes, cookies, etcetera.” She drank from her glass. Her tongue darted out to catch a drop of moisture from her pouty lips. His cock swelled at the delicious sight. Ronan shifted in an attempt to ease some of the pressure on his groin. “I admit, I don’t do much of the baking,” she continued. “My specialty is…customer relations of a sort.”
He stretched his arm out along the back of the glider. When she didn’t tense or move away, he captured one of her curls in between his fingertips. “Your hair is beautiful this way.” He twisted the ebony ringlet around his finger.
“Technically, this counts as touching. Hands to yourself, remember?”
He grinned. “You accepted my invitation. You can’t have believed I wouldn’t try to touch you at all. But make no mistake, you’re in no danger from me.”
Again she studied him, her dark eyes intense. “I believe you,” she said at last. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.” He released her hair and watched her go. There was something about her that didn’t add up. Why was she here? Mrs. Williams rarely left home. And why would she need a house sitter? It was a safe neighborhood and a close knit community. Everyone knew everyone. Or if they didn’t know you, they knew your folks. He couldn’t recall the last time there had been a robbery in Gray’s Landing.
Ronan checked on the steaks. His beer was almost gone and Nikita hadn’t returned. She exited the house just as he’d resolved to search for her. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I got a phone call.”
“Have you heard from Mrs. Williams?”
“No.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”
Her lips curved in a lopsided smile. “No.”
“That surprises me. You’re a regular Chatty Cathy. It’s hard to fit a word in edgewise with you around.” His comments earned him a husky laugh. The sexy sound curled around his cock, making him rock hard in an instant. He took a long drink from his beer, turning ostensibly to check on the grilling meat, but really to avoid embarrassing himself. “I never asked. How do you like your steak?”
“Well done.”
He nodded. “I forgot the plates. I’ll be right back.” He paused upon entering his kitchen. A cool sensation passed over his neck and slid down his spine, making him shiver. He glanced over his shoulder. Nikita stood looking out over his backyard sipping her water.
Ronan took down the plates. A swift visual survey of his surroundings showed nothing amiss. But his instincts were screaming. He knew better than to ignore his
inner voice. It had saved his ass more times than he could count.
***
Nikita wiped her mouth. Dinner had been delicious. Ronan had told her about his childhood. He was the only child of an elderly couple. His mother had believed she wasn’t able to have children until he came along. He’d always wanted siblings but he’d had to settle for cousins instead. When he fell silent, she told him that she had been raised by her aunt and grandmother after her parents' deaths in a car accident. She was also an only child.
She helped him clear the table and then they moved to his couch. He really was a large man but he moved with grace as though he had long grown accustomed to his lengthy limbs. Once again, he wrapped one of her curls around a finger. He stroked the strands between his thumb and forefinger as though he were savoring the texture. She shifted away slightly so that her hair pulled free of his grasp. With a sigh, he turned on the television. The movie he stopped at featured her cousin. Mystique’s character was the best friend of the lead actor. Nikita had seen all of Mystique’s movies. Her favorite was Ian’s Heart, the film she had made with Sean Savage. During filming, the actor had seduced her cousin and convinced her to marry him.
Nikita had been skeptical about the pairing. She didn’t watch much television, but she’d have had to been cloistered not to know that Sean was a renowned playboy. Mystique had the reputation of being conservative because she didn’t party. And though there had been rumors of Sean cheating and of the couple’s separation on trashy gossip magazines, none of the stories were true. Nikita had attended their private wedding ceremony and she’d never seen a couple so in love.
It many ways, it had been the event that solidified for her that she was the last of the witch hunters in her family. Mystique had married another witch. The two of them were bonded mates, a union more permanent than the exchanging of wedding vows. Her aunt, Meadow, the woman who had raised her to hunt and eradicate evil witches, no longer believed in witches due to a spell they were forced to place upon her. Her hatred for witches had rooted so deeply, that it had poisoned her mind. Nikita recalled the horror of entering the basement of the bakery to find Meadow carving up Sean Savage like a Christmas turkey simply because he was a witch. They were fortunate that Mystique had been able to heal him.
Though she disliked being the lone witch hunter in the family, Nikita had to admit that Meadow was much happier since Sean’s brother Keith had placed the spell upon her. She’d even begun dating again—Mystique’s father, ironically, the witch she had fallen for almost three decades ago. Seamus O’Toole had attended the wedding, also. Some of those old feelings must have lingered because Meadow fell for him hard. Since the wedding, the two had been inseparable. Currently, Meadow was vacationing in London with Seamus.
Having been raised to hate and distrust witches, Nikita wasn’t sure how she felt about Meadow dating a witch. Mystique marrying a witch was an entirely different matter. She was a witch. Somehow, Nikita had always known that her cousin would eventually accept her special powers despite Meadow trying her damnedest to make her daughter become a hunter also.
The cousins were raised like sisters. As a child, she’d envied Mystique’s unique gift. She’d wished she was a witch, too so that she could bring her parents back. Those childhood dreams of being part of a happy family were difficult to banish. But as a pragmatic adult, she knew that even had her parents lived, that wouldn’t have been the life for her. She had vague memories of her father coming and going and of her parents bickering. And there was the telling detail that her parents had never married.
Half an hour had passed before she realized something was remiss with Ronan. He was unusually subdued. She didn’t think it was because she’d rebuffed his advances. That was nothing new. She’d been doing that since the day they met. She studied his profile. His gaze was focused on the screen but his forehead was furrowed.
“Is something wrong?” He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “Come on, I know something is bothering you. What is it?” For a brief second, his eyes glowed. If she hadn’t been carefully observing him, she would have missed it. Most people would have thought it was a trick of the light or believed they’d imagined that unnatural glow. Nikita recognized it for what it was—a witch suppressing strong emotion. Gotcha! She’d searched his house whilst supposedly using the bathroom. That search had come up empty. No books on spells, ceremonial daggers, or vials of mysterious potions. She had nothing to prove he was a witch—until now.
A smile graced her lips as she turned her body to face him. “What was it? Was it me searching your house? Do you have some sort of warning system?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Ronan, I saw it. You’re furious that you invited me into your home, your sanctuary, and that I invaded your privacy.”
He turned off the television. “Why would you do that?” He arched a red eyebrow.
“I needed to know if you were a witch. And now I know.”
His lips curled upward. And then he laughed. “There’s no such thing as witches.”
She nodded her head towards the silent television. “Mystique Gray, my cousin, is a witch. So is her husband Sean Savage. And his brother Keith Savage. And you, Ronan McKinley.”
He stood, towering over her. She had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. “What you’re saying is ridiculous. There’s no such thing as witches. I’m just a simple carpenter.”
She stood but he didn’t retreat. Heat radiated off his body and warmed her. “Cut the shit lest I burn your favorite pointy hat. I saw your eyes glow. You don’t need to fear me—unless you’re evil.”
Again Ronan laughed. He clasped her chin in one massive hand. “And why would I ever need to fear a small slip of a girl such as yourself?”
“I’m a fully grown woman.”
“Don’t I know it.” He cupped her ass with his other paw and pulled her close. His thick erection pulsed against her belly. Clearly, all of his appendages were of jolly green giant-sized proportions. Nikita inhaled. When had red headed behemoths become so appealing to her?
Ignoring an answering response from her body, she slid a hand between them and cupped his testicles. “It would pain me to twist these off.” The hand on her ass shifted and slid between her thighs. Long fingers circled over her pussy, stroking her stiff clit. A strangled yelp of surprise escaped her. “You like to live dangerously,” she gasped as he continued to stroke her.
“I’m not evil, Nikita. I invited you over because I like you and I want to get to know you better.”
She nodded. All observation of him indicated that he wasn’t wicked. “Thank you for the confirmation.” She wet her lips. “Let me go.”
“When you let me go.”
She released him. He slowly removed his hand from between her thighs, his fingers closing over her hip. His eyes blazed down into hers. He lowered his face to hers. Nikita turned her head. Undeterred, Ronan took the lobe of her ear between his lips. “Do you have a thing for witches, Nikita? It almost makes me wish I was one.” His hot breath heated her ear.
Whipping back around, she made sure she had his full attention. He could deny it all he wanted, but she knew what she’d seen. And in her line of work, she couldn’t afford to play games. Evil, he may not be, but he was still dangerous. “No, I don’t have a thing for witches. I kill them.”
Anger lit his eyes. “You’re a hunter?”
“Yes.”
Immediately, his hands dropped away from her. His steps brisk and stiff, he crossed to the door and opened it. “I’ll walk you home.”
Nikita grinned. “What a polite way you have of throwing me out of your home.” She walked past him, glancing back over her shoulder. “So you know… I consider this is proof positive that you’re a witch.”
Chapter Three
Ronan wanted to punch something. He glared at his beloved television. The shattering sound it would make would be highly satisfactory, but he couldn’t risk it. As upset as he w
as this second, he couldn’t count on his ability to control his magic. He might be unable to repair the damage.
He didn’t want to believe it. The tempting little Nikita was a witch hunter! A fucking witch hunter! Considering that he hadn’t known her long, the betrayal he sensed was deep and cutting. The way he felt when he first saw her…. He felt drawn to her, compelled to be with her, to know everything about her. When their eyes met, the world receded for him. He’d begun to think that she was the one. They’d yet to share a dream, but he had dreams of her. Naughty erotic dreams that left him aroused and eager to claim her for his own. Could he have been mistaken? Would fate be so cruel as to pair him with a killer of his kind?
Needing to keep busy, he went to work on his Uncle Hugh’s chair again. The wood was ready for sanding. In the morning, he would take it out back and stain it. He tried to keep his mind on the wood, but his thoughts kept returning to Nikita. Frustration welled until he knew he had to stop or risk ruining the chair.
Ronan wasn’t one for self-denial. He may be angry and disappointed, but that didn’t diminish the longing or the pull he felt for Nikita. He still wanted her. Witch hunter or not, she belonged with him.
***
Nikita paced as he waited for Mama Skye to pick up. She was ready to go. Ronan was harmless. Well, if you didn’t count his sexual appeal, that is. Damn! She seriously needed to get some sleep if she was attracted to a witch.
“Hello?”
“Mama, it’s me. Is Mrs. Williams ready to come home? Her neighbor checks out. He’s definitely a member of the warty nose guild, but he’s benign. I checked his house. He’s clean.”
“That’s good to know, but we’re not finished visiting yet. Would you mind watching her house for another week?”
Hell, yes, her instincts screamed. But Mama Skye asked for so little, Nikita couldn’t say no. She sighed. “Sure. He claimed she asked him to examine her kitchen floor. I wouldn’t let him. Could you ask her if that’s true?”
