American Witch, Book 1

by Thea Harrison

  The pinched tension between his shoulders began to ease. “Thank you.”

  She walked over to put a gentle hand on his back. “Look at us, sounding so reasonable.”

  He spun to grasp her upper arms. The suddenness made her flinch. “Nothing about this is reasonable. The feelings I have for you aren’t normal. I’m obsessed with you. I can’t stop thinking about the way your skin tastes, the sound of your laugh, the way you face life with such fierce anticipation.”

  Her lips shook. “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

  “Thank God for that.” He passed a hand over her hair. “Because thoughts of you are interrupting my work, my decisions. I can’t sleep. Is this love? I don’t know. I’ve never been in love before. All I know is I’m ready to abandon almost everything just for the chance to be with you.”

  “Josiah…”

  “Don’t call me that,” he hissed.

  “I have to call you something.” The pragmatic words were at odds with the way she touched his face. “I want to fling everything I’ve got at you, and if it were just me, I would do it and take my chances. But my life is not just about me anymore.”

  “I know. I get it.” He caught himself up, then added more quietly, “Because my life isn’t just about me anymore either.”

  “How much danger are you and the others in?” She searched his expression.

  “I don’t know,” he told her truthfully. “It varies, depending on the situation. From things he said when he had me imprisoned, this witch is over a thousand years old—he’s dangerous, canny, and unprincipled, so we’re obsessive about covering our tracks. The only thing I know for certain is that it’s going to get more dangerous the closer we get to him. Our seer believes he’s in the Atlanta area, and we’ve seen other indications that something dangerous is hiding there, such as spells layered over the local internet hubs.”

  And he had been taking the most dangerous position of all of them, always at the forefront, in the public eye, initiating face-to-face contact with likely suspects. He did not offer that statement. Molly was already aware of it.

  “He must have hurt or killed so many people,” she murmured. “Can your coven defeat him?”

  At that, he had to serve up another dose of truth. “We think so, but we won’t know until we fight him.”

  She shuddered, then gave him a clear-eyed look. “You said you wanted to negotiate. So tell me what you want and lay it out in specific detail. Then I’ll let you know if I can give it to you.”

  “I want eighteen weeks,” he said. “Four and a half months. From what I’ve been reading, you should be due for your first ultrasound. I want to make that trip to the doctor with you.”

  She tilted her head. “You’re asking for that to be our first date?”

  There was a certain wry amusement in her words. He touched her lips with a forefinger. “Your first ultrasound is only one part of this negotiation. Dating is another matter. When we go on our first date, there’ll be no doubt that it’s just between you and me.”

  Heat smoked along the edges of her expression and her mouth softened, but then she asked, “What would you do with the eighteen weeks?”

  He could see that what he said next mattered a great deal. But just as he was willing to make massive changes, he also couldn’t water himself down to make things more palatable.

  He said without hesitation, “Try to find the witch. You should know, we intend to kill him. That’s the best solution to everything. The Elder Races have a tribunal, but we have no intention of pursuing justice that way—not when there’s a chance he might go free. As a district attorney, I can pursue certain legal strategies, but we have only ever intended those as one possible method to reach a final end.”

  She closed her eyes. “You’ve been hunting him a long time. What if you can’t do it?”

  “I would also use the time to extricate myself from the coven in a way that won’t harm them. If it looks like we’ve hit a dead end, one of the coven members mentioned doing something to provoke a reaction that might get him to reveal himself. But whether we finally manage to take him down in that time frame or not, I’ll give them notice I’m leaving.”

  Angling her jaw out, she tapped her fingers on her chin as she thought it over. She looked remarkably unpredictable in that moment, and he tensed.

  “You’ve got eighteen weeks,” she said. “After that, all bets are off.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” He narrowed his gaze. She had thought of something, and suddenly he felt certain he wasn’t going to like it.

  She gave him a thin smile. “You’re not the only one with loose ends that need to be tied up before this baby is born. In eighteen weeks, I’m coming home to meet with the police and to claim my estate.”

  * * *

  If she’d thought she’d seen Josiah angry before, it was nothing compared to the rage that transformed his face now. He snapped, “The hell you will!”

  “Yes. I will.” She stopped to consider him. “Did you really think this was all about you—your coven, your needs, your enemy, your transformation, your timetable? Oh, bless.”

  “Of course it isn’t all about me,” he said savagely. His eyes flashed yellow fire. “Why do you think I needed to talk to you? But this idea is unacceptable!”

  “Then you and I have a fundamental difference of opinion,” she bit out. “Because I think it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’m not going to live out the rest of my life in hiding, and I’m not going to idle passively on the sidelines when I can do something to make the world safer for this child. And I have material assets I need to claim, not least because they mean independence.”

  “The money doesn’t matter,” he snarled.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve found that’s easy to say when you have money. It’s not quite so easy when you don’t—and when you start thinking about things like the medical cost of giving birth and needing to put a child through college.”

  “You don’t need to pay medical bills, and I will never let our child want for anything!”

  She sighed. “It speaks so well of you that you have no intention of being a deadbeat dad. But on the other hand, that would foster an even greater dependence on you, and I don’t want to need you because of your money.” She rubbed her forehead where a headache had started to bloom. “Also, I have a mother who’s been a bitch to me, but she’s getting elderly. Maybe she’s thought better about how she’s always taken Austin’s side. I don’t know, because I don’t have my old phone, and I haven’t dared to access my email. And I lived in Atlanta a long damn time. I have friends, and I know people. They deserve to know what happened to me, and I should be able to use my real name again.”

  “You’d be putting both yourself and the baby in danger!”

  Breathing hard, she glared at him. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’ll be actively courting weeks of continued danger that I’m supposed to accept without question, because… what, I’m supposed to be happy that you want to date me—later—at a time that is more convenient for you and your coven? But when I want to assert my right to take back control of my life, you get to dictate that it isn’t okay? You say you want a negotiation, but I’m not buying what you’re putting on the table.”

  He roared, “You can’t defend yourself—you haven’t any training yet!”

  “Well, I’d better go back and start getting some, hadn’t I?” She wanted to touch him so badly it almost broke through her resolve, but she stiffened her spine and held her ground. “You want time? Great. You’ve got your eighteen weeks to clean up your shit, and then I’m coming home. And if you think you’re good enough to take out this mysterious bad guy of yours, then you’re good enough to keep me safe while I’m there, so maybe this will be what you need to shake something loose. It will sure as hell be your opportunity to step up.”

  “I’m too angry to talk right now,” he said over his shoulder. His voice had gone hoarse. “Get the fuck out of m
y face.”

  Her lips tightened. “Right. I’ve got a plane to catch anyway.”

  “Don’t go,” he whispered.

  She had planned it all carefully. She would fly in only to see what he had to say. She wouldn’t stay, she wouldn’t weaken and sleep with him again no matter how much she was tempted, and she would be back in her wonderful turret bedroom before dawn.

  But now she hesitated. What if this was the last time she saw him? He would be pushing harder than ever to finish what he had started before she returned to Atlanta.

  Not stopping to second-guess the impulse, she flung herself at him. He pivoted, and arms like iron bands closed around her.

  He knew her body so well already. He knew how to shape himself around her, how to tilt her head back, how to plunder the depths of her mouth until they were both shaking. He kissed her as if he almost hated her.

  “I could stop you,” he said against her mouth.

  “You could try.” She strained to hold him tighter. She knew his body too, and God, it felt so good to feel his larger, muscular frame taut against hers. “But I don’t see how confining me is going to get you any closer to a first date.”

  “Goddamn you.” He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

  “Well, goddamn you,” she told him. “Because if you think the next eighteen weeks of worrying about you are going to be easy, you can think again.”

  They stood together, breathing quietly, in sync. She could tell when, gradually, his anger eased. She put a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat underneath his broad, hard sternum. He was a difficult man, but she knew a few things about him now, and he had a strong, good heart.

  Underneath it, his Power shone dark and smooth like the depths of a bottomless lake. After starting to wrestle with her own unruly Power, she had begun to understand a little of what he must have gone through to achieve that even, polished balance.

  Then he said more gently, “Thank you for the eighteen weeks.”

  “I’ve got my first appointment with my new doctor next week.” She cleared her throat. “We’ll work out a schedule of visits. I’ll let you know when the first ultrasound is.”

  Because that would begin the eighteen-week countdown.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was his turn to nod. “I’m still furious. Don’t expect me to be rational if you need to talk further.” His voice turned husky. “But I really want you to stay.”

  God, she was so tempted. Just throw everything to the winds and wreck herself on him.

  She shook her head. “I just… I can’t.”

  Oh, who the hell was she fooling. She had already wrecked herself on him. She might make it sound like she had a good game going, but inside she was a twenty-car pileup.

  Would leaving right now save her the tiniest bit of anguish if he was killed in Atlanta before they could see each other again? Or would she be haunted by the time they could have had if she had only opened herself up to it?

  She only realized she was opening and closing her hand over his chest when he pressed his hand over hers. “Molly.”

  Need melted the stiffness in her limbs so that she sank to her knees in front of him. Wrapping her arms around his thighs, she held him there and he let her.

  She had never understood the tyranny of physical passion before, how the need for another person could drive someone to disregard every sensible instinct they owned, until now.

  He was going to hurt her, maybe even badly. The light of real life would be pitiless on them both, and if he made one more attempt to manipulate her, she knew she would take a wrecking ball to every bridge they had managed to build between them.

  They probably wouldn’t make it past the second or third date.

  Once you accepted the inevitability of impending disaster, things usually got a bit easier. This time they grew crystal clear. Resting her cheek against the zipper of his jeans, she savored the thick bulge of his erection through the material. He couldn’t hide his need for her either.

  He bent over her kneeling form, stroking her hair, her jaw, running his hands over the curve of her shoulders. “What do you need?”

  “I don’t understand how we got to this place,” she murmured, almost dreamily. “I didn’t even like you when I first met you.”

  Laughter shuddered through him. “As I recall, I wasn’t being very likable, but I loved everything about you. I knew you were going to be a colossal inconvenience.”

  “You were right. I was, wasn’t I?” She unbuttoned his jeans and drew the zipper down.

  “You don’t even know the half of it, but I wouldn’t trade away a minute with you for anything.” Long gentle fingers hooked underneath her chin. He lifted her face until she looked at him. His amber gaze was intent. “You still haven’t told me what you need.”

  “I need to take what I want.”

  Reaching inside the opening of his pants, she pulled his cock out. She knew his body just as he knew hers. She knew the pattern of veins along the side of his shaft, the velvety, sensitive skin over the hardened muscle, his scent, the way his sac tightened underneath when she cupped him.

  He hissed as she stroked and fisted him, spreading his legs apart to brace himself, the muscles of his thighs rigid. She had grown obsessed with him too. The way his skin tasted. The sounds he made when he lost control.

  When he wasn’t saying sexy things to her, he liked to make love quietly, in near silence. It made her zero in on every moment, like a series of flash photographs. This. This. This. Until he couldn’t stay silent any longer. God, she loved when that happened.

  She took him in her mouth, widening her lips to fit around the broad head, for a while content to simply hold the tip inside her, she stroked her tongue in a gentle pulse against the most sensitive part of him. The tension in his body grew tighter until it fractured in micro tremors. He started to pump gently, and she took him in farther, opening her throat until she encompassed all of him.

  She took and he moved, silently intent until the very end. Then a sound broke out of him, harsh like a hawk’s cry. He shuddered, spilling into her, and she closed her eyes and swallowed every drop down.

  Because we know this dance, don’t we, my friend? We’ve been here before in this private place.

  You push harder, and I give in. You fall into your animal while I rise up to meet you.

  And we might break our hearts, but we’ll say it will have been worth it.

  To bathe in this fire one more time.

  Just to spark the fire.

  One more time.

  * * *

  Afterward, he knelt and held her. She rested her head on his shoulder and drifted until he picked her up to lay her on the bed. As he stretched out beside her, she rolled away and looked out the window at the wild array of lights. Eighteen weeks.

  Lifting aside the heavy fall of her hair, he said against the nape of her neck, “I would love to return the favor, but suddenly you feel like you’re a million miles away.”

  She shook her head and said telepathically,

 

  Her lips pulled into a smile.

  He kissed her earlobe.

  She looked over her shoulder at him.

  His expression tightened.

  She nodded, unsurprised, then pushed to a sitting position.

  He sat up too and gripped her by the back of the neck.

  She win
ced and said aloud, “I think I’m at my limit, and I don’t want to get into another argument. You’re exhausting when we butt heads. You need the time you asked for, and I’ve already said I’ll give it to you, but I’m not going to change my mind about returning to Atlanta.”

  When his gaze narrowed in quick, disingenuous reaction, she knew she had struck a chord. He’d been strategizing how to argue her out of that decision.

  He said, “Let’s start another negotiation.”

  “I’m all lawyered out, babe.” She pushed the dark hair off his forehead. “I miss you already, and I’m worried about what the next eighteen weeks will do to you. There’s only one thing we can do to make this better, and that’s both of us getting through this intact.”

  Sinking his fists into her hair, he kissed her until the muscles in her thighs shook. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were bleak, and his expression had settled into grim lines. “I’ve got a rental car. I’ll take you to the airport.”

  It was getting late. “You don’t have to…,” she began.

  His composure cracked, and something volcanic and frightening flashed across his face. “I will take you. To. The fucking airport.”

  Speechless, she nodded. Releasing his grip, he rolled off the bed, his movements quick and tight. She escaped into the lush bathroom to straighten herself. There was nothing she could do about her rumpled clothing or the stark look in her eyes. She drank some water, finger-combed her hair, and shrugged off the rest.

  When she emerged, he had his phone out and had turned brisk. “Did you miss your flight?”

  She didn’t know what time it was. She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. If I have, I should be able to fly standby. I can sort it out at the airport.”

  His mouth tightened, and he pocketed his phone. “Fine. Are you ready?”

  He had turned distant. She nodded.

  They made the drive to the airport in silence. When they drew close, he clamped a hand hard on her knee and didn’t let go until he pulled into a spot to drop her off. She unbuckled her seat belt, and as she turned to say goodbye, he rounded on her.