To Kill A Warlock

by H. P. Mallory

  “Dulcie, don’t tell me you haven’t missed me, I know you have,” he said.

  I had missed him. I couldn’t deny it.

  “Is that why you haven’t dated anyone else?” he continued.

  I shook my head. “I haven’t dated anyone because you gave me some real trust issues, asshole. It has nothing to do with missing you.”

  He leaned forward and put his hand on mine. I wanted to pull it away but I couldn’t seem to summon up the will.

  “Stand up and let me see you,” he whispered.

  I stood up in spite of myself, it was as if I’d swallowed a control potion and he was now calling the shots. The duvet dropped away from me, even though I still held it. Jack stood up and approached me, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. He stood so close, I could feel the heat of his breath on my forehead.

  “I don’t want to do this,” I muttered, even as my traitorous body sung while he ran his hands down my breasts.

  “He’s your past, Dulcie.” It was Knight.

  I closed my eyes against the embarrassment that not only was Jack witnessing me naked but now Knight was too. When I opened them, Jack was still watching me through those beautiful dark brown eyes I’d loved so much. Knight stood behind him, his expression stoic.

  “Tell him he’s your past,” Knight demanded.

  I glanced at Jack again and he dropped his head, capturing my lips. My eyelashes fluttered down until they graced the tops of my cheeks.

  “Dulcie, let him go.”

  I opened my eyes but didn’t stop kissing Jack. Knight grabbed Jack’s shoulder and tore him away from me. I glanced at Jack who didn’t even react—he just watched me.

  “Tell him he’s your past. Let him go.”

  It was like slow motion as I faced Knight again. He ran his fingers down one side of my face and bent my head as he trailed steaming hot kisses down the length of my neck.

  “Say it,” he demanded again.

  I focused on Jack who was standing there like the last kid picked in PE. Anger and pain warred within my stomach as I forced myself to gaze at the man who’d so royally screwed me up.

  “You’re my past,” I said in a breathless voice.

  Knight chuckled and ran his fingers down my neck, past my collarbone until he found one of my breasts. He took it in his mouth as I watched Jack begin to fade, as if he were a ghost.

  “Again,” Knight demanded.

  But, I didn’t want to focus on Jack. I wanted to focus on how amazing Knight’s mouth felt on my breast. He pulled away and glanced up at me.

  “Again,” he growled.

  I faced Jack. “I’m letting you go.”

  Jack faded even more, until he was nothing but a fleck of whitish steam.

  I gasped when I felt Knight’s fingers between my thighs.

  “Once more until he’s gone.”

  I faced what was left of Jack and the words barely made it out of my mouth. “You’re my past and I’m letting you go.”

  The steam disappeared and I woke up in a sleeping bag on my floor. I drew in my breath as I realized my own hand was pressed hard against my inner thighs. I quickly pulled it away and sat up, dazed.

  Knight was an unmoving mound my bed.

  How freaking embarrassing that I’d been fondling myself with him in the same room! Humiliation heated my cheeks and increased tenfold as I wondered if Knight had involved himself in the dream—the same way he’d interrupted my pirate repose. Well, it wasn’t like I was about to question him about it.

  I rolled over and closed my eyes, praying the rest of my dreams would be rated PG.

  FOURTEEN

  Knight had been gone all day. Where, I had no idea, but after the first five hours of the day dragged on, my irritation with him sleeping naked in my bed had fizzled like a one hit wonder. Images of Knight licking my breast kept visiting me and it was all I could do to push them to the dark recesses of my mind. It was just too mortifying to even consider that maybe Knight had witnessed the incriminating dream. One thing that was clear, at least to my subconscious mind, was that I needed to get over my emotional baggage from Jack. If the dream wasn’t a wakeup call, I didn’t know what was.

  Now, I was alone. And I reveled in every glorious minute of my solitude. Trey was still at Headquarters for another hour or two, and Bram was coming over as soon as the sun set.

  I'd spent all day working on my Bram book and was now up to chapter seven. Even though I hadn't had a chance to interview Bram, I figured I could pepper the book with his stories later on. For now, I just wanted to get the bare bones finished.

  Two strong knocks on the front door broke my concentration. I closed my file before approaching the door, palming the Op 6 at my side.

  “Who is it?” I demanded, hoping it could only be the best looking man I'd seen in Splendor who also happened to be the most frustrating.

  “Knight.”

  Ding ding, I won.

  My hand hovered over the lock while a grin spread across my face.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you,” I glanced through the peephole to find Knight laden with grocery bags. His brows pasted together in annoyance. Time to get him back for pulling the naked in my bed stunt.

  “Dulcie, my arms are full, and I don't have the patience to play games with you,” he snapped. “Open the door.”

  My grin broadened. Retribution is a beautiful thing. “Didn't you read the sign that says 'no solicitors'?” I eyed the peephole again, relishing every minute of his discomfort. The words: “don't get mad; get even” echoed through my head and inspired another grin on my lips.

  Knight's sigh was long and loud enough to get through the door. “I'm giving you to the count of three, and then I'm taking the door down.”

  Hmm, apparently he was impatient and short-tempered.

  “One.”

  He wouldn’t dare.

  I crossed my arms against my chest and continued watching him through the tiny hole in the door. His face was flushed red and dripping with irritation.

  “Two.”

  Okay, maybe he would dare. He put the bags on the ground while I clutched the doorknob.

  “Three.”

  I yanked the door open before he could do any permanent damage. “Knight, why didn't you say it was you?” I asked with a beaming smile.

  Knight frowned and narrowed his eyes. “Very funny.”

  Then he dropped his gaze to the paper bags sitting on the ground beside him. “You wanna give me a hand with these?”

  Making no motion to assist him, I glanced into one of the paper bags and noticed Captain Crunch cereal, a bag of apples and a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth's syrup.

  “Groceries?” I asked, as if the idea that he'd gone to the store was completely foreign.

  He grabbed four bags and carried them inside while the other two sat there idly, seemingly upset at having been left alone.

  “You have no food in this place. And I'm a hungry man.”

  I shook my head. Knight going grocery shopping was one subject I'd never considered. I finally bent down and gathered the remaining bags into my arms, closing the door behind me with a kick of my heel. Watching him stroll through the living room, I tried to judge whether or not it seemed like he had any inkling about my dream. It didn’t seem as though he did.

  “Well, I don't cook,” I said, retiring the bags on the kitchen counter. Knight was already unloading the ones he'd brought in. I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him. Hey, he bought them, let him unload them.

  Knight faced me with a broad smile. “You don't do anything domestic.”

  “Just because I'm a woman...”

  “Dulcie, I didn't mean it like that. It's just an observation. I like your modern Wonder Woman sensibilities.”

  Wonder Woman? What?

  I shook my head and watched him pull open the vegetable bin of the refrigerator. He fished out a bag of rotten onions, holding just the tip of the plastic bag as if afraid the onion would crawl out and rub
itself against his hand.

  Casting me a look of disdain, he dropped them into the trashcan. “Any other surprises in here?”

  “I guess you'll find out soon enough,” I answered in a saccharin tone.

  Knight chuckled and filled the vegetable bin with bags of carrots, onions and potatoes. Shaking his head, he turned his baby blues on me. “You take things way too seriously, Dulcie, you need to lighten up.”

  My lingering smile vanished. Who in Hades did he think he was? “I don't take things too seriously,” I started but was interrupted by Knight's sarcastic expression. “I mean, I wouldn't describe myself as easy going...”

  “By any stretch of the imagination.”

  “Hey, what is this? Bash Dulcie day?” I knew I could be...tough...at times, but that's the type of personality a Regulator needed. What did he expect me to be? Some weakling who cried at the drop of a hat? Like Trey?

  “See, taking me too seriously again.”

  I muttered something unintelligible even to my own ears before changing the subject. “So, where were you all day?”

  He held up a box of Hungry Jack pancake mix. “Isn't it obvious?”

  “Going to the store takes maybe an hour or two at most. You've been gone all day, smart ass.”

  Hoisting a twenty-bottle pack of water, he placed it atop the counter and tore through the plastic, tossing a bottle to me as he grabbed another for himself. “Been keeping tabs on me, have you?”

  Why weren’t conversations with Knight ever easy? “No...well, yes, I just wanted to tell you I didn't appreciate your little stunt last night.”

  Knight leaned against the counter and crossed his arms against his massive chest. “There was plenty of room on the bed. You seemed to fit alright.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “So, you were awake even though you pretended to be asleep?”

  He chuckled and grabbed the chair next to me and straddled it.

  I took the cap off my bottle of water and sipped it, hoping it would give me time to come up with a good response. “Well, I'm not sleeping on the floor again.” Apparently, it wasn't time enough.

  He nodded. “That's fine.”

  “And you're not sleeping in my bed again.”

  He stood up and started collecting the clutter of paper bags littering my floor. When he faced me with raised brows, I pointed to the cupboard next to the stove, and he packed the bags in, closing the cupboard door behind him.

  “I can't sleep on the floor,” he said. “I have a bad back.”

  “Well, you should've thought about that before pulling your little naked stunt last night.”

  “Fine, I'll wear boxers.” Knight chuckled. “Do we have a deal?”

  I was just waiting for him to bring up the dream but he never did. Thank Hades. “Fine.” I cleared my throat, not at all okay with the image of Knight's tight ass in boxers. “And about where you were for the rest of the day today...”

  “Confidential.”

  “You're impossible,” I snapped and stood up from the kitchen chair so fast, I banged my naked ankle against the wooden leg. I yearned to grab it and hop around the kitchen in pain, since that’s the only thing that seems to help. Instead, I just bit my lip and threw myself into the desk chair and reopened my word document.

  I decided to ignore Knight for the rest of the evening.

  The sound of the door opening startled me to attention, and I turned to observe Trey striding in, acting like he owned the place. “Hey, Dulce, whatcha doin?”

  “Nothing,” I grumbled.

  Trey dropped his man-bag at the foot of the couch and started for the kitchen, his first pit stop whenever he returned from work. He ran headlong into Knight who kept him at arm's length.

  “Hiya, Todd.”

  “Hi, Trey, how's it going?”

  “Good. You guys eat dinner yet?”

  I didn't bother responding but glanced back at the door, waiting to see if Quillan had followed Trey. After a few seconds, it looked like he hadn’t. So, because of the Knight-staying-with-me thing, he was avoiding me. Just great.

  “I went to the store so help yourself,” Knight said as he headed into the living room.

  Trey nodded. “Word.”

  I sighed and returned to my computer while Trey rifled through the cabinets, apparently hell-bent on finding something to contribute to his weight problem.

  “What's the plan for tonight?” Trey asked, while opening the box of Captain Crunch. He shoved his hand into it, throwing a handful of nuggets into his mouth. Note to self: avoid Captain Crunch. I glanced at Knight, who'd collapsed into the sofa and resumed his channel surfing.

  “You guys are on your own,” I said. “Bram's coming over.”

  Knight dropped his feet from the coffee table, and the sound of his boots hitting the floor was like a bowling ball falling from two stories up.

  “I don't want to hear it,” I started. “You can go...” I glanced at Trey, who was riveted on the Captain Crunch box, reading the comics and snorting with laughter. “You can go...drive around and...look for a certain red-haired something.” I hoped Knight got my gist.

  “No point,” he started, also glancing at Trey, who was still giggling at the box. “That certain something will have to make itself known. No use in me driving all over hell and back.”

  Trey carried the box of cereal into the living room, trailed by a blizzard of Captain Crunch and plopped onto the couch next to Knight, popping open a can of 7-Up. “Is Bram coming to babysit me?”

  I shook my head and frowned, knowing Trey had no intention of cleaning up after himself. “No, he's coming to see me.”

  “Why's that?” Trey’s cheeks filled with effervescence from the 7-Up which swelled his lips until he looked like a bloated toad mid burp.

  “She's writing a book about vampires,” Knight finished for me, in a crass tone.

  “Oh, cool,” Trey said with a nod. “There's a comic book I really like about vampires and werewolves, and they fight each other. Kind of like alien versus predator. You ever seen that movie, Todd?”

  “No,” Knight answered.

  “What about you, Dulce, you ever seen alien versus predator?”

  A knock sounding from the front door saved me from the need to respond, and I stood up, sending Knight a threatening scowl—warning him not to act anything but friendly to my vampire guest.

  I pulled open the door and found Bram on my doorstep, a single, long-stem rose clutched in his hand. He eyed me from head to toe, and I felt like I was wearing a negligee under his lustful gaze.

  “Sweet, wonderful to see you,” he said and the accented words dripped English. Bram hadn't lived in England in at least one hundred fifty years (according to his A.N.C. bio), so I imagined the accent was put on—it wouldn't have lasted so long otherwise. Maybe he thought it enhanced his vampire persona. He definitely wouldn't be as intimidating nor sexy if he talked like Trey.

  He handed me the rose, and I took it with a frozen smile. “Hi, Bram,” I said and stepped aside. He casually strolled in, but his grin dissolved when he noticed Trey and Knight on the couch. What, had he thought this was a date?

  “Gentlemen,” he said and gave them a slight inclination of his head in greeting.

  “Hi, Bram, how's it goin'?” Trey asked, never pulling his eyes from the TV where Pamela Anderson strutted her red-bathing-suited self in a tired rerun of Baywatch.

  Knight glared at Bram as his gaze traveled to the rose in my hand. His mouth was tight. “Hi,” he said flatly.

  I kicked the door shut and started for the kitchen, pulling out a chair for Bram. He took it with a smile and clapped his hands together like an excited kid. “How shall we proceed?” he asked and his eyes glinted with mischief, as if he were asking what position he should assume. Naked.

  “Well, I thought I could ask you some questions, and then if you don't mind, I was going to record our conversation with this,” I said and held up my black audio recorder.

  The TV volume blared
into the kitchen. Gritting my teeth, I craned my neck to see Knight holding the channel changer, a frown of what appeared to be annoyance marring his otherwise perfect face. Anger burned inside me as I turned to apologize to Bram, but he just smirked.

  “Perhaps we are being a distraction, Sweet,” he said and eyed me knowingly. “Shall we retire to your bedroom?”

  My eyes found Knight's, and he immediately muted the sound on the television. “No need, you can stay out here,” he grumbled. Hmm, was someone jealous?

  Pulling out my notebook, I grabbed a pen and faced Bram. “Ready?”

  He nodded and I pressed record, setting the palm-sized machine in between the two of us.

  “Okay, please tell me where you were born and what year.”

  “I was born in 1709 in London.”

  I ticked off the first question on the pad of paper with a red “x”. “Were you from a well to do family?”

  He smiled. “Yes, Sweet, very well to do. My father was a prominent Tory and very respected.”

  “When were you turned into a vampire?”

  “On my twentieth birthday, my dearest friend introduced me to a harlot named Meg.”

  Wait a second. “You're twenty?” I asked incredulously.

  Bram chuckled. “No, Sweet, I’m soon to celebrate my three hundredth year.”

  “I meant, you were twenty when you were turned?” He nodded as I shook my head. “You just look much older than that...”

  He laughed again. “Times were different then, Sweet...nutrition wasn't what it is today, and London was...not what it is today.”

  I glanced up and found Trey lumbering toward us. He took a seat next to Bram and put his elbows on the table so they could cradle his enormous head. “Wow, twenty?” Trey asked, suddenly finding Bram more interesting than Pamela Anderson.

  Bram arched a brow in my direction. “Next question, Sweet.”

  I glanced at Knight, who was also studying us. As soon as he caught my attention, he pretended to be absorbed in whatever show he hadn't been watching.

  “Can you tell me what happened when you were changed?” I asked.

  “Meg happened to be a vampire, and while I was taking full advantage of her body...” He eyed me up and down, and I just shook my head. “She was lapping up my blood. Before I could realize what was happening, I was nearly drained. When I saw what she was, I made the decision not to go down without a fight. Weak as I felt, I managed to unsheathe a dagger I kept on my person, and I slit her wrist.”