She smiles very brightly for whatever reason, and she squeals as if in delight. Why the hell is she clapping her hands with so much excitement?

She is unstable. I’m certain of it now.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” I demand. “What have you done to them to keep them from seeing us? Answer me, witch.”

Her smile falls, and she gives me a glare.

“I guess it only half-way worked,” she says on a sigh, her look relaxing for a minute, as she taps her chin and studies me.

“What are you wearing?” I ask, annoyed by how many times my eyes dip to the outstandingly indecent amount of cleavage she’s exposing.

“It’s a long story. So you don’t know me?” she asks, moving closer, peering up at me with eyes far too soft and unguarded.

“You’re not of this time,” I decide. “Or you’ve been raised in isolation.”

“Both,” she says with a shrug, her very confusing smile spreading, as though these are great things to be proud of.

“Perhaps I’m the one unstable,” I mutter.

My mind still lagging, and my body still heavy, I examine her again.

Even though she’s dressed too wildly provocative for my tastes, she’s a lovely thing. And suspicious. Terribly suspicious.

“Who are you?” I ask again.

She takes a step closer, and my breath hitches, while my body fails to respond, when she reaches out and puts her hand over my heart.

“I’m January Violet Carmine.”

I arch an eyebrow. “And that’s supposed to give you permission to touch me?” I ask, given the fact I can’t do much of anything besides be a bit snide.

I don’t want her knowing my movements are restricted. She’s clearly a powerful witch.

I’ve not run across one this powerful before.

No one is powerful enough to do whatever it is she’s done to Idun.

The strong witch rolls her eyes.

“So much for our deep and powerful connection breaking the curse. I need to find a way to get myself in danger. But this is all a lot harder than I expected. The one time I get support for one of my ideas, I go and overestimate myself,” she says on a sigh that makes it seem as though she’s entirely too put-out.

If I could move my arm, I’d scratch my head right now.

This is all too puzzling, and I can’t even have the appropriate apprehension, because I’m entirely too intrigued by her. This isn’t me. She’s clearly cast a spell.

Her hand remains on my heart, and she leans over, placing her head on my chest.

My body tenses, because the contact is damn near stifling in my chest. My heart constricts so much that I swear it stops beating, and my breath freezes in my lungs.

“I wonder if it’d be as easy as having sex with you,” the brazen woman says with no preamble. “Letting you feel all those emotions you stir in me could jar you out of the trance. It seems easier than somehow making a memory threaten my life,” she says, as my fingers tingle, more and more sensation spreading, alerting me that I’ve been somewhat numbed.

She runs her hand up my chest, and my breath shakes out of me, because the woman’s touch is just too soft, familiar, and unsettlingly tempting.

“I don’t have the body for something this tight. It’s really irking me that he couldn’t have let me come in my underwear. My body looks better naked than suctioned in skin-tight clothing that highlights every flaw,” she carries on, being entirely too critical.

My body certainly appreciates the feel of her in that thin material. It makes me desperate to move.

She steps back, and I almost feel abandonment in the absence of her touch. My chest constricts tighter, and I strain to move toward her. But my feet remain rooted to their spot, despite my best efforts.

She taps her chin again, while I remain stuck in this tortuous hell. She’s clearly a witch. She’s undoubtedly here with an agenda.

I’m a man who prides himself on having control over all my baser urges, but this one is far too tempting. I’ve never wanted anything so desperately as I want to rip that fabric from her body.

“Come closer,” I tell her with a smirk.

She lifts one of her eyebrows, studying me, and then a devilish smile curves her lips, as she lifts her hands to slowly begin unzipping the front of that scandalous little number.

She continues unzipping it, all the way down to where it demonstrates the fact there’s nothing underneath. My tie feels much tighter, and I can’t even manage to loosen the knot.

With a bit of a wiggle, she works it off her shoulders and down to her hips, her daring eyes not leaving mine. This woman is dangerous, because she does all this without even looking over her shoulder at Idun and the others, confident they’re of no concern.

She suddenly begins struggling, and she drops her head to where her very complicated boots begin. When she hops around on one foot, her very tempting backside swaying with the motion, my control becomes a thing of the past.

As if mesmerized by every pale inch of her, my sluggish body begins to slowly grow more sensation. My fingers twitch.

“Damn these boots. I’m working hard to be sexy. Just look away for a second,” she says with another hop, nearly crashing into the wall beside her.

My eyes stay riveted to all the bare flesh, and my fingers twitch with movement once again.

“You’re offering your body to me, witch?” I ask to be certain, as my toes move in my boots.

“Of course I am. I’ll try anything to get you to snap out of this trance, especially since my prior plan doesn’t seem possible even to me. I wish I’d known you would only snap halfway out. I could have taken one of the others with me, and we could have staged a ruse,” she rambles on, even as she grunts with the effort it takes to remove just one of her complicated boots. “If that was possible. Hell, I know nothing. I’m winging this, in case you haven’t noticed.”

My foot slides forward, and I smile a little more to myself, studying the brazen morsel of temptation. So daring, young, and innocent, it seems. And ambitious, if she’s willing to do this right under Idun’s nose.

I’ll name a ship after this one.

Chapter 18

VIOLET

Seduction fail.

Majorly.

Damien is a sadist.

These boots were meant to humble me in every way, and leave me with no dignity, since I’m hopping around, mostly naked, stuck in this fresh hell to explore.

In front of Vance Van Helsing. The one who doesn’t already know that I’m great at ruining all of the ‘sexy’ when I try too hard.

Two hands are suddenly on my hips, and my breath hisses between my lips when I’m roughly shoved against the table in front of me. His body comes down on my back, and both my hands are wrenched behind me, as his breath teases my ear.

Bare skin brushes against mine, as his strong, lean muscles contract against me.

“Careful, witch. I may want you, but I don’t trust you. Move too suddenly, and I will end you for the sake of suspicion,” he assures me, the deadly threat coming as he kicks my feet apart wider.

I’m not sure why I tremble. I’m also not sure why I like it so much when he pushes between my legs, fingers grazing me in a place that has me squeaking out a breath of surprise.