“You’re lucky we have so many innocent eyes on us in here. Otherwise, I’d take you against that wall.”

She laughed again, but it dissolved quickly when she caught the fire in my eyes. I was sure my heady desire was written all over my face. I simply couldn’t control myself when it came to this woman.

Archie barked and stood against the pen, both paws up, trying to give us puppy licks between the bars.

“Down, Archie,” she said, reaching into her bag for one more treat to give him.

She stood afterward. So did I.

“Hold out your hand,” she said, producing a bottle of hand sanitizer.

“Always so prepared.” I rubbed in the sanitizer while she did the same.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she said with a smile. We were back outside, sauntering toward our homes. “Do you want to grab some lunch?”

I glanced at my watch. “I actually have an appointment as well.”

“Oh, what for?”

I spun her to face me and combed my fingers into her hair, pulled her body into mine. Before she could fully gasp, I had my mouth on her again, tasting all of her sweetness.

Well, not all. But soon enough. Right now, I just wanted to feel the rightness of her body against mine, in my arms where she belonged.

It hadn’t escaped me that my thoughts were becoming exponentially proprietary where Isadora was concerned. The thought of this ending and me leaving New Orleans sent a panicky, sharp feeling into the pit of my stomach. So I kissed her hard, delving into the softness of her mouth, wanting to dive into the softness of her body.

But there was something I needed to do first. Pulling my lips away, I kept her pressed against my body, needing it for a moment longer.

“I’ll see you soon,” I assured her.

“Okay,” she replied softly, her eyes glazed with lust.

I loved that look, but I wanted even more than that.

“Are you on the pill?” I asked.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Um. Yes.”

“Good.” With another soft kiss, I stepped away. “I’ll see you soon,” I repeated with a smile. Then I went to take care of my next order of business.

Chapter 26

~ISADORA~

I sat at my vintage writing desk against the wall, which doubled as a vanity with a narrow ornately-framed, oval mirror just above it. I wore my knee-length nightie, my favorite camphor-scented candle was burning, and I was writing to Mom with my blue quill pen. The night was pleasantly cool, so I’d opened the French doors that led out onto our second-floor balcony.

I kept starting and stopping because my thoughts continually strayed to the paper unfolded and sitting at the upper corner of my desk.

I hadn’t seen or spoken to Devraj since yesterday when he’d left me in a hurry outside of Angel Paws. I didn’t understand why he needed to know if I was on the pill since we’d been protecting with condoms. Not until that piece of paper had arrived with a personal note inside.

I set the quill pen back in the inkwell and picked up the note, rereading for the hundredth time.

Dearest Isadora,

Since I’m aware of your affinity for charts and graphs and everything spelled out in black and white, I’m sending you the results of my testing as of today. Though I knew already, I wanted you to have all the chartly and grapherly evidence that I’m one hundred percent clean. (Yes, I made up those two words especially for you.) That being said, with you on the pill and with your assurance that you’re also in the clear, I formally ask if we can dispense with the condoms from here on out while we explore this “thing.”

If that’s not clear enough, Isadora, know this. I want you, to be inside you, skin to skin. I want you all the time. You invade my thoughts every minute of the day. I crave you like I’ve never craved another woman. So yes, this is my plea, a vampire on his knees, begging you to let him come inside you with nothing between us. No boundaries.

Think on it.

Yours, Devraj

The chart that came with the note was dated yesterday afternoon, two pages long, and completely thorough with the doctor’s stamp of approval on each page. As if I’d think him a liar without it. He’d also added a handwritten smiley-face on the bottom of the chart on the second page, which had made me smile like a Cheshire Cat.

He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to get the testing completed so quickly. He’d hand-delivered the note to Clara to pass to me last night. Then he’d made himself scarce all day today. I’d expected a text, a call, a visit. Anything after that note that had set my thighs on fire. I was eager to give him my answer, even if the thought of condomless sex seemed so intimate. Too personal. Especially if this thing was just a temporary fling.

I mean, in theory, the sex could be better without a condom, the sensations more intense. Yet again, I squeezed my thighs together, heat pooling between my legs at the thought. I’d been like this all day, a complete mess of hormones and flaming, unrequited desire. How could he send me that note and then just leave me totally alone all day? And afternoon. And night.

It was the longest, most torturous day I could remember. Not only had I been considering his proposition, I’d been thinking of other things I wanted to do with him. I was rather shocked at how wild my sexual appetite had gotten. I’d never been shy in the bedroom, even though I’d had less than enthusiastic partners in the past. But Devraj had set something free, finding the sensual woman I’d buried beneath hours of gardening and bookkeeping and healing.

As someone who always cared for others, expending magic to heal and nurture other people, it was shocking to discover I’d been ignoring my own needs. And that Devraj was the one who could satisfy them, tend to me with unwavering care and passion. He’d delved inside and called to that carnal creature I kept tucked away. And I wanted more of him. So much more. I ached. I burned.

Prickly awareness tingled along the bare nape of my neck since my hair was tied in a messy bun. I spun halfway around on my stool to find Devraj standing in my open doorway to the balcony, leaning against the jamb, hands in his pockets and the devil in his eyes.

Wow. Did he look delicious. Faded jeans low on his hips, white T-shirt form-fitted to his muscular chest, wavy black hair around his shoulders, and lust cloaking him from head to toe. I wasn’t sure if he was putting it off or if it was coming from me or both, but I was suddenly aware I was in a sheer spaghetti-strap nightie with nothing but lace panties underneath.

“You got my note?” he asked casually. Like he wasn’t ready to eat me alive.

“I got it.”

His gaze strayed from the note on my desk to the letter I’d been writing to Mom. Trying to write, anyway.

“What’s that?”

Glancing at my desk, I lifted the thick fibrous paper I used for writing and opened my desk drawer. “Just writing a letter to my mom.”

He chuckled. “You know you can text or email her, and it would be much more efficient, right?”

Ignoring his sarcasm, I said, “I prefer handwritten letters. They’re more personal.”

He walked slowly to the edge of my bed behind me, and sat. It was strange. Usually, there was a lightness between Devraj and I. His charismatic nature causing a buoyancy that inflated the air around him. But tonight, there was a distinct heaviness between us. A density that weighed the air with serious thoughts. Serious desires.

“I should’ve known,” he said with a hint of wonder, voice a low rumble. “You can infuse your magic into writing, can’t you?”

As a witch who was weak in telekinesis and psychic abilities, the basic magic every witch wielded without even blinking, I cherished this second gift as a side effect of being a powerful Conduit.

I was still sitting sideways to him, feeling quite shy all of a sudden. I’d thought I’d gotten past this feeling with him, but the note, coupled with my near-nakedness and him being in my bedroom, my personal haven, had me speaking soft and low.

“I can,” I answered.

I picked at a frayed thread on the green cushion of my stool, but I could feel his stare burning with intensity.

“I’ve heard of Conduits who could do this, but it’s a rare gift, Isadora.”

It was true. Magic-infused onto paper could make spells more powerful, could render the bearer of such a spell formidable just from possessing it. I’d given all of my sisters, my parents, and my grandmother incantations of protection the Christmas after I figured out I held this power. If they recited the incantation on a regular basis, they inhaled my magic from the pages, my energy. It was a unique way of transference of magic. One I didn’t advertise because I didn’t want any extra attention from the witch community. I preferred to remain in the background.

“I’ll bet you keep this all to yourself, don’t you?” he asked, as if reading my thoughts. “Except for family.”

“I don’t want the attention,” I defended.

“I know you don’t,” he said softly. “You don’t want the world to see too much of you.” His voice was a whispering caress, searing along my skin. “But I see you.”

I glanced at him sharply. “What do you see?”

“A lovely woman who knows the meaning of humility and kindness and true beauty.”

I swallowed hard, unable to look away.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, holding my gaze as he asked softly, “Can I hold the letter you’re sending to your mother?”

With a stiff nod, I picked it up and set in his hand.

He made a soft sound in his throat, something like surprise. “Incredible.”

“What?” I asked, glancing at him in the mirror. “What do you feel?”

“Magic. Your love for her.” His gaze softened, holding me with reverence. With awe. “You’re so amazing.”

“Me?” I huffed, trying not to let his beauty steal my breath. But it was so, so hard. My God, he was gorgeous.

“Yes, you.” He licked his lips. “So quiet. So unassuming. Lingering behind the bold front of your sisters when you hold such power in that pretty body of yours. That pretty mind. That pretty heart.”