by Jane Hinchey
In the bedroom a stunning emerald green dress was laid across the bed, a strappy pair of black sandals placed neatly next to it. Picking the dress up, she admired it as the dress shimmied and caught the light. She wasn't sure what the fabric was, but it was beautiful. It was strapless, a simple sheath that fell from bust to ankle, with a slit along one thigh. And as much as she hated to admit it, she loved it.
And it loved her. Standing in front of the mirror, she swept a hand over her hips, admiring the cut of the dress, how it made her look taller, slimmer. It hugged her curves in all the right places. She'd had to forgo a bra since it was strapless, but the dress had its own built-in paneling that preserved her modesty. The slit in the side allowed her to walk without restriction and the dress moved and swished around her legs as she walked back and forth in front of the mirror. The black strappy sandals made her ankles and legs look, dare she say it, sexy. Georgia had never thought of herself as sexy, even though Zak had told her countless times. But tonight, in this dress and these shoes, she felt it.
She left her hair down, clipping one side behind her ear with the emerald jeweled hair clip that matched the dress. Using the cosmetics that had arrived with the dress, she lightly made up her face, giving her eyes a smoky eye effect, a light dust of blush across her cheekbones and an almost nude lip gloss.
A soft knock at her door shook her out of admiring her own reflection. She had a small grin turning up the corners of her lips when she opened the bedroom door to find Zak standing on the other side dressed in a black suit and crisp white shirt with matching black tie. She sucked in a breath. Holy shit. She'd never seen him dressed this way before. He was stunning. And sexy as hell.
"You look beautiful." His words were soft, his face sincere.
"Thank you. So do you." He smirked and she rushed on. "Not beautiful, that is. Handsome. You look handsome. Oh my God! Why am I saying that to you?" Nerves were getting the better of her, her hands gesturing wildly.
"Relax. Take a breath." Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he led her out into the living area, stopping just before they left the suite. "Ready? Remember, tonight has to be believable."
"Got it," she croaked. She had a feeling it would be all too believable because right now her libido was doing funny things to her stomach. She didn't want to leave the suite, she wanted to toss him to the floor and ravish him, Zak or not. And those were very dangerous, very disturbing thoughts.
He led her to the elevator, his hand burning where it rested on her lower back. He matched his pace to hers, slowing as she got used to walking in the heels without falling flat on her face. The elevator ride was short. She'd kept her eyes closed the whole way because on each wall was a full-length mirror, reflecting images of her and Zak, so perfectly suited, burning into her retinas. Her hands clenched into fists to keep herself from clutching his lapels and dragging his mouth to hers.
"You're doing great." His wolfish smile told her he knew what she was feeling. Taking her hand, he led her out into the foyer of the restaurant. Cameras flashed in her face, making her blink.
"What the hell?" she muttered, blinking, trying to clear the spots from her eyes.
"Paparazzi," Zak whispered in her ear. "Smile and pretend you like me, or even better, remember that kiss in the bath, the way your tongue stroked mine, the way the water ran off your breasts, how you burned for my touch."
A flush darkened her cheeks as his words painted an all too real picture in her mind. She looked up at him, her eyes flashing.
"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, his lip twisting in a half smile. "You are so fucking stunning it's all I can do not to push you back into that elevator and fuck you senseless." He wrapped a hand around her neck and pressed his mouth to hers. She was dimly aware of cameras clicking and flashing around them, but she was lost. Lost in his touch, his taste, the words he'd told her. She whimpered when he pulled away.
"Well done." He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and then straightened. With his arm around her waist, he guided her into the restaurant. She feared if he took his arm away she'd collapse at his feet for her legs felt as useless as wet noodles.
They were seated at an intimate table for two, shielded from view by towering palms. Georgia blew out a breath and tried to get her bearings. Thankfully the cameras had stopped and she reached for the glass of champagne that had materialized in front of her.
"I don't think I can do this." She gulped the cold champagne down, shivering as the bubbles burned her throat.
"You can, and you will."
"Please don't take this too far," she begged, her eyes pleading. He looked at her from across the table before reaching forward to clasp one of her hands in his.
"What's too far?"
"You know," she accused.
"You don't want me to take care of that ache? The one right now throbbing between your legs? You don't want me to lave you with my tongue, to suck your nipples, to kiss you until you can't breathe?"
His words kept stoking the fire he'd started earlier. It terrified her. Because right now, she'd let him do all those things and more. And then hate herself. Forever. She'd never be able to forgive herself, and when Zak was back in his body, she was sure he wouldn't forgive her either. Even though it was his body she was responding to, their unique chemistry that had her all fired up and squirming in her chair, the fact was, it wasn't him. She shook her head and he released her.
"Very well." He smiled as if he was utterly unaffected, but she knew by the light flush along his cheekbones and the sheen of perspiration on his forehead that his body was just as affected as hers. She wasn't going to mention it though because that just might push him to find his own release. Looked like they'd both be suffering blue balls tonight.
16
Dinner had been delicious, and she'd surprised herself by enjoying the evening. They'd ordered a host of different dishes and he'd teased her with food, feeding her different gastronomic delights and laughing at her reactions. She'd relished the food, delighted it was sustaining her so she didn't feel the need for blood. It crossed the back of her mind that maybe she wasn't a vampire anymore, but she pushed the thought down. That was something to be examined later, with Zak.
They'd stayed at the restaurant until late. He'd plied her with champagne and swept her around the dance floor to the sultry sounds of the jazz band. It was one of the most romantic nights of her life, and it was with the wrong man. She was silent on the elevator ride back to their floor, again keeping her gaze averted from the mirrors.
"Thank you." He spoke softly, standing by the window in their suite looking out at the city and its twinkling lights below them.
"For what?" She moved to look out the window too, keeping her distance.
"For a lovely evening. I had a good time." He sounded surprised.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. "I had a good time too," she admitted.
"If things were different..." He trailed off, regret in his voice.
"But they're not." With a sigh, she turned and headed to her bedroom. She slipped out of her heels and dress, leaving them in a heap on the floor, then slid beneath the covers in nothing but her knickers. A pain in the side of her head reminded her to remove the hair clip and she absently dropped it onto the bedside table before closing her eyes on a yawn.
Hours later she stretched and yawned, wriggling back into the warm body pressed into her back. Her eyes sprung open and she tensed. The arm draped over her waist tightened, holding her pinned to him.
"What are you doing?" she squeaked.
"Well, I was sleeping," he grumbled.
"I mean, what are you doing in my bed? Why aren't you in yours?"
He chuckled, rubbing his thumb on the flesh of her belly. "I'm not leaving you to sleep alone so you can sneak out in the middle of the night." She trembled, the weight and heat of his hand doing things to her she didn't want to think about. She tried to move away, but he pulled her back to him, his chest pressed to her shoulders. She
could feel his erection pressing against her. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
She lay frozen, unable to move, barely breathing. Desire thrummed through her, but also fear, and regret. She didn't want this. She was on the edge, the pent-up desire of days spent with him with no release building to fever pitch. If he moved his hand, if he cupped her breast, she'd mount him and ride him like a cowboy. Her body was screaming at her to do it, do it, yet her mind was begging her not to, to remember he wasn't Zak, no matter how nice he was last night, how charming, attentive and romantic. He was fucking with her mind and she hated it.
Before she could draw her next breath, he was gone. She didn't see him move, just heard the bathroom door slam and the shower turn on. Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she sprang out of bed and quickly dressed, not caring what she wore as long as she was fully clothed before he came out.
She was pacing in the living room when a knock sounded at the door. She looked over to the bedroom door. She could still hear the shower running. Crossing the room she opened the door to discover room service. A young man pushed a trolley into the room.
"Where would you like it?" he asked.
"Errrr."
"How about on the balcony?" he suggested, already pushing the cart toward the balcony doors.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Why not?"
He pulled the curtains back and opened the sliding doors. Pushing the trolley outside, he set up breakfast at the outside table. Georgia wandered out and leaned against the balcony railing, looking down into the city below. Guilt washed over her again that she was experiencing these things with the wrong person.
She heard the bedroom door open and close, felt Zak’s presence as he joined them on the balcony. The young man finished setting up their meal and smiled at both of them. "Enjoy your breakfast." Zak pressed notes into his hand and saw him to the door.
"Come on. Eat." He grabbed her wrist and led her to the table. She plopped into a chair and lifted the lid on the plate in front of her. A stack of pancakes drizzled in maple syrup greeted her.
"Wow." She almost drooled. How did he know it was her favorite? Scooping a forkful of pancake into her mouth, she closed her eyes as she chewed, trying to hold back the moan. They were fucking fantastic.
"Good?" Zak asked.
She didn't look up, just kept stuffing her mouth with pancake. She felt syrup dribble down her chin and wiped it away with the back of her hand, all the while not meeting his gaze. "Mmmmhmmm."
"It's very interesting." She heard his cutlery clatter on his plate, and a quick glance showed he'd finished his breakfast. She was so wrapped up in her pancakes she wasn't sure what he'd had. A hint of bacon was in the air, maybe bacon and eggs?
"What is?"
"That you haven't felt the need for blood in what? Twenty-four hours? Maybe longer."
She froze with the fork halfway to her mouth and looked at him. His face was serious. She calculated back in her head. He was right: she'd last fed off the attendant in the dressing room. And that same night she'd eaten food again. And the next day she'd eaten food. And this morning she was eating food. And not craving blood at all. She should be clamoring for it by now. She could have compelled the room service guy to let her take a sip, but it hadn't occurred to her. She hadn't needed to.
"Why is that?" She didn't expect him to have an answer; it was more of a rhetorical question. He shrugged, taking a mouthful of coffee. The aroma drifted over the table and her nose twitched. Coffee. She hadn't had coffee since the time in her farmhouse when her aunt arrived. Back then it had tasted like nothing. Pre-vampire days she used to live off the stuff, loving the taste, the caffeine kick. She shoved the last of her pancakes into her mouth, hiding behind her hand because she'd shoved too much in and could barely chew. Swallowing, she reached for her own coffee cup and took a mouthful. Oh, my God. She could taste it again!
"It has to be linked to your magic," he said, watching her practically making love to her coffee cup.
"How so?"
"Not really sure, I'm just guessing, but I'd say your magic has been fighting the effects of you turning vampire, and it's slowly coming out on top."
"Fighting the effects..." Her thoughts drifted off, remembering her fever, passing out, how her injuries were scarring instead of disappearing altogether. Could he be right? It certainly sounded plausible.
"Do you think my magic could reverse me being a vampire? That I'd become human again?"
"Is that what you want?"
His question caught her off guard. Was it what she wanted? She knew she'd spent a long time in regret ever since Zak turned her, but with the daylight protection spell giving her back the ability to walk in the sun, that went a long way to giving her back what she wanted. A normal life. She shrugged. She’d loved her old life, but she also loved her new life with Zak. It was up to her to reconcile the two. Would reverting to human form be the solution? Especially if she had magic to protect her? It was a discussion she needed to have with Zak, not the hunter.
He knew the minute she shut down; she saw it in the way his lip curled in a smirk. Pushing his chair back, he got to his feet, then stopped by her chair and looked down at her. "Go visit your aunt today. Meet the coven. Do the witchy thing."
"What are you going to do?" She frowned, not trusting this sudden freedom.
"I've got things I need to take care of." With a soft kiss on her forehead, he was gone.
Georgia remained at the table, enjoying the last sips of her coffee and the early morning sun on her skin. It was still a little chilly, but the day promised to be a superb autumn day. Finally, she pulled herself out of her daydreaming and went into the bathroom to take a shower. She'd dispensed with hygiene this morning in an effort to put distance between herself and the hunter, but now she was looking forward to standing under the waterfall spray and luxuriating in it.
Looking at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she let out a startled shriek. Holy shit, she looked a red hot mess. Her hair was a wild nest around her head, her mascara had streaked under her eyes and halfway down her face. Oh, my God. Embarrassment heated her cheeks. She'd opened the door to the room service guy looking like this. He hadn't flinched. And Zak had sat across from her and eaten breakfast, giving no clue she looked like a train wreck.
With jerky movements she stripped, leaving her clothes on the floor, and stepped beneath the spray. She'd been right: it was the best shower she'd ever had. Grabbing the loofa, she squeezed shower gel on it and scrubbed herself clean, her skin tingling and silky smooth, the scent of lavender and honeysuckle surrounding her.
She stayed under the spray way too long, until her fingers were pruned. Eventually, she dragged herself out, then dried and dressed in the clothes she'd left on the floor. She found a hairdryer in the vanity unit and blasted her mane of hair, getting it mostly dry before braiding it once more, this time in a softer braid that fell forward over one shoulder. Back in the bedroom, she dug the card out of the pocket of her other jeans. The Black Cauldron. Aunt Melissa had said it was a couple of streets away.
She’d been delaying the inevitable. She needed to get her head back in the game, to meet with the witches and get this mess sorted. Sitting around having decadent breakfasts and luxurious showers were not going to help anything and a twinge of guilt colored her cheeks.
Downstairs she asked the concierge for directions. Sure enough, it was literally only two streets away. Although the concierge had frowned at the name, saying he'd never heard of it, he did know the address typed in black beneath it. Thanking him she set off and was standing outside a quaint shop ten minutes later.
The shop front reminded her of something out of a Harry Potter novel. This place would have been right at home in Diagon Alley with its wooden-framed windows, displayed with wands, cauldrons, books stacked sky high. Smiling in anticipation, Georgia pushed the door open, and a bell jangled over her head announcing her arrival.
The shop smelled...interesting—a mixture of incense, herbs,
and old books. A little heady, it made her want to throw open some windows to get some fresh air. The wooden floorboards beneath her feet creaked as she moved further into the store, spied a counter painted purple with gold lettering around the frame...she couldn't make out the language.
"Can I help you?" A woman appeared from behind a curtain that presumably led to a storeroom or some such place. Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, Georgia eyed the woman with curly orange hair heading her way. She was dressed in the most psychedelic pair of pants Georgia had ever seen, and a bright purple tank top that revealed she wasn't wearing a bra. She was several pounds overweight, and Georgia pegged her to be at least sixty.
"Errr. I'm looking for my aunt? Melissa Foster?"
The woman shrieked so loudly Georgia clamped her hands over her ears. "You must be Georgia!" She scrambled around the counter and wrapped Georgia in a bear hug, "We've been waiting for you."
The woman's orange fuzzy head reached Georgia's collarbone and she looked down at her, half in fright, half in delight. "Am I late? Sorry." She wheezed, unable to draw a decent breath with the small round woman squeezing the life out of her.
"Oh sorry." She released her, stepped back, and eyed her up and down That's when Georgia noticed the other woman was barefoot and each toenail was painted a different color.
"I'm Tilda. I own this place. Welcome."
"This place is...amazing."
"Tilda, I could hear your screeching from upstairs. Is Georgia here yet?" Melissa appeared from behind the curtain. "Finally!” She huffed when her eyes landed on Georgia.
"Sorry, Aunt Melissa." The two women hugged, then Melissa held her at arm’s length, her hands resting on Georgia's shoulders as she peered intently at her.
"Your magic has grown." She nodded in satisfaction.
"How can you tell?"
"I can feel it. And your aura has changed. Come on, let's head upstairs. Some of the girls are already here. The others will join us soon."
"Are you doing the spell today?" Georgia followed her behind the curtain, which revealed a small annex and a staircase. She followed her aunt up, praying the wood would hold as it creaked and groaned beneath their weight.
