Something About Witches

He tightened his grip, let her feel all that strength reeling her in. She was too stiff, had gone as inflexible as a corpse, and his brow creased. She was proving there was something way wrong, because if she was over him, the hug would have been done by now. Thoughtfully, he leaned down, and she closed her eyes as his lips landed on the corner of her mouth. Just rested there, like a morsel of chocolate icing that had escaped when eating a really, really good fudge cake. The desire to lick at it, rather than reach for a napkin, was almost overwhelming.



The rest of her body wanted to roll the same way. She wanted him to press her back against the ammo case, his oak-like strength against her willowy flexibility, and hook her leg over his hip, bringing him even deeper into the cradle between her thighs.



“I smell Deception potion on your breath, Ruby. You’re double-dosing these days. The Dr Pepper isn’t covering it.”



“I’ve never had a good poker face. You need one in this job. It helps.” She managed a casual shrug, one that she turned into a step back, knowing she was almost against the cash register. But she refused to give off trapped vibes. Sliding a hand in her pocket, she leaned against the ammo case. All by herself. “Okay, you’ve had your hug. Now give me some room and tell me what the job is so I can tell you I’m not interested.”



“Wasn’t much of a hug. You didn’t hug back.”



“You just wanted me to grope your ass, and I’m not in the mood.” Yeah, that was the biggest lie in the history of the world. “I mean it, Derek. I’m busy. Talk.”



The tension was building in her breast, because of the things unsaid, the things she suspected were happening under that casual demeanor. Goddess, hold it together, Ruby.



Giving her a long look, he inclined his head at last, but he didn’t retreat. He propped a hip against the front counter and crossed his arms, keeping her boxed in. His hat was at her elbow. She didn’t want to remember, but she did. That wonderful weekend they’d spent at the beach together. The sun had been so bright, he’d put the hat on her head to protect her fair skin from the rays. They’d walked hand in hand along the shore, like innocent lovers. He’d made love to her later, her wearing nothing but that hat, her sandy toes curled against his calves.



Thank Goddess he started to talk.



“There’s a coven in Florida that needs your help.”



“Tell them I offer group discounts. They can buy thirteen Sigs for a ten-percent markdown, and I’ll throw in a free box of hollow points.”



He ignored that. “They’re on one of the magical fault lines, and there’s been some bad activity brewing there. It’s not a quick fix, so they need training, a way to keep it managed themselves. You’re one of the best instructional priestesses I know.”



“And one of the lousiest practitioners.”



“That’s your mother talking, not you.” He frowned.



“There are better people to do what you’re wanting.”



“That’s your opinion.”



“Mine’s the only one I’m counting.”



He straightened, moved from behind the counter. Though it gave her room to breathe, it didn’t give her any relief, because he stopped, hooking his hands in his back pockets to stare up at the row of assault rifles mounted and locked on a metal backboard. “What happened to you, Ruby?”



When she didn’t answer, he sighed. “They let it go too long. It’s going to take some work to get it all in balance again, and the fight may get ugly. You won’t be in the line of fire; that’s my area, but I need to know they can hold it after I’m gone. That’s where you come in.”



“How ugly?” she asked, then cursed herself for appearing the slightest bit concerned.



“I think it’s torn up enough to attract attention. I’ve heard murmurings in the Underworld Asmodeus is headed that way. I want to fend that bastard demon off before he gets there.”



As she went still, he turned. His eyes narrowed. “Ruby?”



She was pushing the roaring back, wasn’t sure he hadn’t said her name several times, because when she focused on him again, he was right up at the counter, his hand landing over her ice-cold one. “Ruby, what the hell—”



“I’ll think about it. Can’t give you an answer right now.” Though of course she already knew that was a lie, and now he probably did, too. Asmodeus made all the difference in the world.



“Maybe you’re right. This isn’t the right job for you.” He studied her face, stepped back. “My mistake.”



“Give me the number of the coven priestess. I’ll call and talk to her.” At his expression, she rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a ninny and give me the number. I was just daydreaming about how high you’d jump if I peppered your feet with my AK-47, that’s all.”



“Yeah. I’m sure that was what made you turn white as a sheet.” But he wrote down the number on the order pad on the counter, pushed it toward her. When he did, his fingers closed over hers, drew her eyes up to his. “Tell her when you’re coming so she can make arrangements for you. I’d wait and take you down there myself, but I’ve got a couple details to wrap up before I can head that way.”



“I’m crushed.” She arched a brow. “Here I thought we could do some shopping and get our hair done together.”



He gave her a narrow look. “I’ll be down there within the week.”



“No rush.”



“Yeah, there is. They need you to train them. But you need me for the rest. I’m not taking a chance of leaving you to face Asmodeus. That’s my job, if it happens.”



“My knight in shining Wranglers.”



Another one of those intent looks, and then he picked up his hat, put it back on his head. To her relief as well as dismay, he moved toward the door, tousling Theo’s ears as he passed the dog. “Keep your mistress safe, Theo.”



Glancing back, his hand on the doorknob, he raked his gaze over her. “You still wear those Victoria’s Secret cotton bikinis. Still prefer pink?”



“You’re losing your touch,” she returned sweetly. “I’m wearing a pair of my boyfriend’s briefs. More comfortable than girl’s underwear, you know.”



He pursed his lips. “Hmm. You may be right about that. I’m not wearing any at all, and I couldn’t say where they got off to this morning.”



She tightened her jaw. “You’re not my boyfriend, Derek Stormwind. I’m long finished with you.”



He didn’t smile. “You may be finished with me, Ruby Night Divine, but I’m far from finished with you. See you in a week.”



AFTER HE LEFT, SHE SLUMPED AGAINST THE COUNTER, her knees buckling. Fortunately, she kept a stool back here to do computer work, and now she slid onto it, taking another sip of the soda with the potion he’d correctly detected on her breath. Hell, if she were a better liar, she wouldn’t need it, but that part was the truth. She’d always had a sucker’s face, showing every emotion. The Deception potion helped to keep those muscles locked down, which stopped the flickers of the gaze, flushing or nervous body movements that could give things away.



Every part of her was still tingling, her mouth wishing she’d taken that lick. Wishing she’d turned her head and met the kiss full-on, given him everything and taken just as much back. But that was the bitch of it. Some things you just couldn’t take back.



That one touch had brought so many memories to mind. The way he would lie curved behind her in her bed, his arm over her body, his hand clasped around her wrist as they slept. Sometimes she’d wake to feel his thumb tracing slow, sensual runes in her palm, along her pulse points. Protective runes, to keep her safe. She could close her hand and still feel them there. Realizing she was doing it now, she opened her fingers, shaking off the feeling.



It didn’t work, Derek. Damn you.



That day they’d been at the beach, they’d seen two children playing in the waves, a brother and sister, probably no more than six and seven years old. The boy had his plastic sand shovel and was sweeping it through the water in dramatic, sword-swirling motion, sending out geysers of water toward his sister. She was ineffectually trying to use her spread-fingered hands to splash back at him. It was as if males came out of the womb with that warrior instinct, and women…. women learned too late.



Asmodeus. Bringing the unloaded sniper rifle determinedly back to her shoulder, she lined up the sights with Derek’s retreating form, headed down Main Street. Never again. She’d never be too late again. No matter the cost.



Chapter 2



DEREK STARED MOODILY UP AT THE ANTEBELLUM PLANTATION house. The driveway to reach it was a mile long, winding through oaks draped with Spanish moss, and punctuated by views of marshland and waterways, since the place used to be a rice plantation. Once near the house, the natural beauty gave way to sculpted gardens and statuary that ranged from sensual to whimsical. In the side yard was a large bronze that looked like children running along a fallen log, a dog chasing after them, while in the front, a large fountain poured water over a pair of naked alabaster lovers.



They were flush against each other, the man’s fingers buried in her hair, her head tilted, lips parted, while his mouth was on the tender spot beneath her ear, as if he were whispering his passion and promises to her. The water slid over the shallow valley of their backs, the smooth buttocks, inviting fantasy and touch. Derek remembered how it felt to trail his fingers along Ruby’s nape, down the delicate valley of her spine.



The carved oak sign welcomed the visitor to Sweet Dreams. Like a freaking bed-and-breakfast, which was actually how the place was listed for tax purposes, but he’d bet money no one had ever come to this bordello to sleep, despite the heavy, languorous feel that lay over it like a fantastical mist.



The three-story Queen Anne structure had an elaborate roofline of cross gables and a block tower, a chaotic design he knew was helpful to box in and contain energy flow where needed. On top of the tower was a wind vane, a wrought iron depiction of a witch riding a broom. The fronds of the broom curled like the witch’s long streaming hair.

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