Witch Fury

FIFTEEN

LUST CRUISED THROUGH HER BODY AS HIS LIPS closed around the peak of her nipple. She squirmed a little beneath him and he grabbed her wrists in one of his broad hands before pressing them to the mattress above her head. Then he forced her body to bow toward him, lowering his mouth once again to her breast.

His tongue followed every ridge and valley, every pucker and peak until she was barely able to keep quiet. She’d never come from just a man’s tongue on her nipple, but Theo was close to making her.

Then he did the same thing to her other breast.

She moved her hips on the bed. The sight of his dark head working over her and the feel of his long silky hair brushing along her skin was almost enough to make her crazy.

“Theo,” she murmured. “You’re killing me. This is. . this is—” “Me, making you come.”

He moved his hand between her thighs, finding her clit through the material of her clothing. With perfect, expert motions, he circled it, using the seam of her jeans to rub against the swollen, sensitive area. Pleasure arced through her body, bowing her spine. Theo rode her through it, making it go on and on.

The climax came to a gentle, rolling halt, leaving Sarafina feeling boneless. “Theo,” she whispered. He’d released her wrists, so she guided his face to hers. God, she wanted to return the favor. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him.

But his facial expression was tight where she was sure hers was languorous and anticipatory. It was odd how clearly she could read his emotions right now. His mask was completely gone — burned away — replaced by a roiling sea of intense desire and anger.

Sarafina lifted her head, suddenly very aware of her nakedness, where a moment ago she hadn’t been at all. “Theo, what’s wrong?” “I didn’t want to push this far with you.” Well, hell, she wanted to push further.

Sarafina braced herself up on her elbows. “You started this, not me.” She sounded like a seven-year-old, but she didn’t care. He’d given her a taste of him and now she wanted more. That was his fault.

“I know I did. Apparently, no matter how hard I try, I can’t resist you.” He got up and pulled on a pair of sweats, then sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Then last night you scared me so bad, made me crazy. I had to touch you today.” “So let me touch you back.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Sarafina sat up, pulling the blanket over her. “Look, Theo. .” In the living room, Theo’s cell phone rang. He retrieved it and gave a snarling, “Yeah,” into the receiver.

She collapsed back onto the mattress as Theo spoke to whoever was on the other end in low, forceful tones. Then silence.

She raised her head and saw Theo standing in the doorway.

“Thomas wants to talk to us.”

THEO STOOD BY THE WINDOW AT THE FAR END OF THE Coven library trying really hard not to hurl something through the floor-to-ceiling glass. He’d known this was coming. As soon as Sarafina had mentioned it to Thomas, Theo had known Thomas would take her up on her offer.

Thomas Monahan was a good man, but the Coven always came first. He’d put Sarafina at risk to gain information.

In a heartbeat.

“So even though Bai attacked her here at the Coven, you’re still willing to send her back to the Duskoff.” Theo spoke without turning around to face Thomas and Sarafina. His voice was hard. Right now all he could do was stare straight ahead and use all his willpower to resist destroying something.

“Not long term. I just want her to go in for a day or so and I want you to go with her,” said Thomas.

“I want to find out what Bai wants me for.” Sarafina countered Theo in a combative tone.

Theo snorted. “And you think Stefan is just going to tell you?” “He might if I offer something in return. He knows the Coven got to me. I can offer to give him information.” “You’re not prepared for this. Last night proved it.” Sarafina sighed. “Theo, Bai is coming for me one way or another. There’s no place to hide, no place to run. I feel better meeting this head on.” Theo turned to face her. Last night had made him realize just how much he was coming to care for her. This drove him insane — watching her march herself right into a nest of black mamba. “Do you even know where Stefan and the Duskoff are right now?” “New York,” answered Thomas. “Stefan hightailed it back to headquarters after the raid on the farmhouse. You’ll have to go there.” “How do you know?”

“Mira. She can’t hear anything within the warding, but she notices it when Stefan moves somewhere and comes out from behind Duskoff walls. She’s tuned to him and he knows it. He’s not making any slips, unfortunately, though Mira will be there if he does.” “I’m going in with her. I’ll cut my hair and—” “You will not!” That came from Sarafina. “I won’t allow you to cut your hair, Theo.” “I’m not sure I can work up a charm powerful enough to disguise it.” Sarafina shook her head. “No way. I know that’s where you store a lot of your spells and charms. I’m not letting you diminish your power base for me.” “I’d rather help keep you alive than have my power base at full flush.” He reconsidered. “I’ll work on a charm today and see if I can come up with something. If I can’t, it’s coming off.” “Do that,” said Thomas. He fingered his own hair, tied at his nape. His hair, also a part of his power storage, had been shorn on Eudae by the Ytrayi. “It takes a damn long time for it to grow back in. Either way, I want you both on a plane tomorrow morning.”

THE NEXT DAY SARAFINA WALKED WITH THEO UP the steps of a tall granite building in Manhattan. The large sign in the square in front of the skyscraper read DUSKOFF INTERNATIONAL.

It gave Sarafina chills to see firsthand just how entrenched and established the warlocks were in the human world. Duskoff International was a powerhouse of a company, privately owned by the Crane family until just recently when it had been taken public — owing to Stefan Faucheux’s greed, undoubtedly. The stock price was sky high. Sarafina knew next to nothing about the business world and even she knew all that.

Who would be able to believe that warlocks sat in the boardroom? Three weeks ago she never would’ve.

They’d left for New York yesterday and settled into the swank that was the Hotel Indigo in Soho. Thomas Monahan had a place here in New York, but staying there was out of the question. They weren’t sure if the Duskoff had the place under surveillance, but they probably did. Grosset was back in Chicago, staying with Claire and Adam.

Theo had been able to design a convincing glamour for himself. Just an hour earlier in their hotel room Sarafina had watched him drink the foul-smelling concoction and stared in awe as it worked.

Apparently, glamour charms weren’t easy to make. Only earth witches as powerful as Theo, Thomas, and Micah, three of the strongest in the Coven, could concoct them.

On the downside, the charms were fragile and only lasted about twenty-four hours. By this time tomorrow the magick would erode and the carriage would turn back into a pumpkin. . not that Theo’s body could be compared to a pumpkin. And there was no re-creating the charm and altering your appearance exactly the same way again. These were onetime deals, suitable more for novelty than espionage.

The upside was, wow, the changes wrought were impressive.

Theo hadn’t been able to create the illusion that his hair was shorter, but it was a different color now — a blond nearly as light as her own. His skin was lighter, too, less swarthy Italian and more winter-loving Nordic.

The charm had made him seem shorter and a bit less bulky — less aggressive, all around. It had softened the brutal, grim lines of his face, curving the granite-hewn edge of his jaw and making his lips thinner and his mouth less expressive. It had smoothed his forehead and relaxed the severe set of his eyebrows. His pupils were blue now, transformed with a pair of ordinary colored contacts, but his eyes still revealed every breeze disturbing the ocean of his emotions.

It was eerie just how much Theo did not resemble himself. Yet his severity and seriousness somehow seemed to radiate out from the charmed suit he wore, ruining the illusion of harmlessness he’d been striving for.

“They’ll make sure I’m separated from you first thing,” he said in a low voice when they reached the frosted double glass doors. “You’ll be on your own, but I won’t be far away.” “So what do I do if they try to kill me?” “Retaliate. You have fire.” He paused. “Oh, and scream real loud.” “Great,” she muttered as they pulled the doors open. Why the hell had she volunteered for this again? Oh, yeah, she was the Coven’s best chance for information.

Hell, she wanted some of her own, too.

The lobby was sleek and polished and filled with people in business suits. It looked like any other office building on a Tuesday morning, bustling with commerce and with the scent of greed heavy in the air. Apparently, not all their employees were warlocks. Many of the lower-tier people were non-magickals with no clue about the sort of otherworldly dealings this conglomerate dealt in. Amazing.

They approached the receptionist’s desk. She was most certainly a warlock. Sarafina could almost feel heat coming off her — fire. The two security guards standing near the desk were warlocks, too. She was a young redhead — fitting for the element she commanded. The guards eyed them with mocking expressions on their faces, probably recognizing them as kindred magickals, yet not their kind.

The receptionist raised her gaze to them as they approached, a pair of stylish square glasses perched on her pert little nose. The nameplate on her desk read BELINDA. “Can I help you?” “We’d like to see Stefan Faucheux,” answered Sarafina. She’d dressed up for the occasion, a Ralph Lauren black wool sheath dress and a matching pair of Prada peep-toe pumps, all provided by Thomas Monahan. She’d done her hair up high on her head and had taken a lot of time with her makeup. She knew she looked like she belonged here. If only her friends back in Bowling Green could see her now.

Belinda blinked. “Do you have an appointment?” “No, he’s not expecting us.”

The receptionist snorted delicately. “Do you think he sees just anyone?” A delicate sneer seemed to be a natural part of her voice. She gave Theo a sloe-eyed once-over, a woman’s assessment of a man. From the speculative look on her face, she found him to her liking. A flare of totally misplaced possessiveness rose up in Sarafina.

Sarafina smiled saccharine sweet and leaned in a little. “He’ll see me. Tell him Sarafina is here.” Belinda gave her a dirty look. “Do you have a last name?” Sarafina tilted her head to the side and batted her eyelashes a couple times. “Do you really think with a name like Sarafina I need to give it? Stefan will know who I am.” The receptionist’s lip curled, but she reached for the phone. “There’s some Southern woman here named Sarafina who says Mr. Faucheux will see her without delay.” The last words dripped with sarcasm. “She’s got a Mr. — ” She covered the phone with her hand and looked at Theo. Suddenly, she wore a dazzling smile. “What’s your name?” “James Anwar.” He waited a beat. “We’re from the Chicago Coven.” The woman jerked a little and paled, her smile gone. “You’re Coven witches?” “At the moment. That’s what we’ve come to discuss with Mr. Faucheux,” Theo answered.

The person on the other end said something and Belinda glanced at Sarafina, then turned away and spoke low into the mouthpiece. She set the receiver back into its cradle and looked up at them. “Tell the elevator operator you want the thirteenth floor.” They thanked her and walked across the busy foyer to the bank of elevators on the other side.

The thirteenth floor wasn’t even on the menu of options, Sarafina noted when they entered one of the elevator cars. Theo undoubtedly knew that already since he’d fought in the big battle waged in this building several years ago, the one in which Mira Hoskins had sent William Crane careening out one of the top-story windows with a blast of air.

She glanced at Theo, standing beside her in the elevator with his hands clasped in front of him. His malevolent gaze was fastened completely on the back of the head of the elevator operator — a warlock. Theo had been here before. . and killed here before. At the moment, despite his disguise, he looked like he wanted to kill again.

As if it were some bizarre inside joke, Marilyn Manson’s “I Put a Spell on You” played in the background — the elevator music version. Cute, really cute.

They rode up a few floors past thirteen, let out the two non-magickals in the elevator, then rode back to their requested floor.

The doors opened into a lobby. Another curved receptionist’s desk lay directly in front of them with another pretty warlock receptionist. Potted green plants sat in the corners of the room, flanked by rows of chairs where visitors could wait for the person they had an appointment with, she guessed. On either side of the receptionist’s desk stood a glass wall with frosted doors, revealing a corridor of offices.

She was in warlock central.

It was so different from the Coven. This place was all business, no nonsense. Gleaming, polished marble, designer suits. Money.

The Coven was comfortable and easygoing. Sarafina realized in that moment just how much she’d come to think of the Coven as her home in such a short amount of time. The Coven and the people in it had become family.

Well, okay, maybe she didn’t quite want to think of Theo as family. That would be weird.

Powerful wards pulsed to either side of the frosted glass doors. They’d passed through another set of doors at the entrance to the building and one more when they’d crossed the threshold of the thirteenth floor. It had felt like walking through a cobweb. This ward was much stronger and Sarafina could feel it even from ten feet away. No one could get past it unless they were a warlock or invited in by a warlock.

The black-haired receptionist motioned them over with a crooked finger. She spoke to Sarafina. “Mr. Anwar will wait here for you.” The receptionist pointed at the door to her right. “Tenth office on the right.” Theo nodded at her once — it was nothing he hadn’t predicted, nothing they both hadn’t expected — and went to sit in one of the chairs. Cold fear suddenly rushed through her veins. She stared at the door for a moment, feet frozen to the floor.

“Sarafina.” Theo’s voice was low and warm. It thawed her. “Give my regards to Mr. Faucheux.” She jerked her gaze from the door to Theo, drew a deep breath, and then walked in to her appointment with the devil.