Wild Women Collection

by Rachel Sullivan

  “What will the lady have?” He waved his hand in the air, flashing his expensive watch, and the bartender appeared. Alex turned back to face her and smiled, a sensual curve of his lips.

  “Patrón margarita on the rocks.” At least the good stuff didn’t give her a hangover. She tossed her small black clutch on the bar and leaned her hip against the hard, cold edge.

  She glanced over at the bartender, a rangy werewolf with black, beady eyes. She couldn’t question him about Maeve, not with Alex by her side. She cringed as he poured a generous amount of tequila into her glass and then added a shot on the side. She didn’t plan on getting hammered during this little foray. Her telepathy worked better without the fog from booze, but what choice did she have?

  “I’ll have a Glenfiddich, neat,” Alex said, taking a seat on a barstool. After a few minutes, the bartender placed their drinks on the bar along with the shot, a slice of lemon, and a salt shaker. Alex touched his glass to hers and smiled. “To welcome surprises.”

  “To welcome surprises.” If he was sent by the Agares, he was about to get one he’d never forget. She tried checking him out more closely over the rim of her glass. But with his mass of dark, wavy hair, she couldn’t make out even the slightest hint of horns. The way he mysteriously showed up here tonight and sought her out couldn’t be a coincidence. Even more reason to think the Agares sent him.

  When he set his drink on the bar, she contemplated slipping a potion into his glass. She kept one in the pocket of her trench, a special concoction made from licorice root and wolfsbane. The potion acted like a truth serum. A couple of drops and Alex would be forced to reveal his deepest, darkest secrets in a heartbeat. But his steady gaze never left hers.

  “That’s an interesting tattoo.” He reached for her hand and caressed her pentagram with his thumb. Heat emanated off him like the flame of a match. She suppressed a shiver. Alex’s touch contrasted with his size and dangerous looks. The man could just be a player, a master seducer lulling her into a sexual trance with his sexy voice and pillow-soft touch before he attacked.

  “It’s a pentagram, a sacred Wiccan symbol, and these,” she said, touching each one of the five points, “represent the elements and the spirit.” She shrugged, hoping to sound noncommittal. She didn’t want to get into the differences between Wicca, an earth-based religion, and hereditary witchcraft. “The guy at the tattoo shop had it in his book. He rambled on about it while he inked me. I was pretty wasted at the time.”

  His dark eyes lingered on her mouth as she lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip of her margarita and glanced down at his big hands, tanned and sprinkled with a smattering of hair. Funny, she never found a man’s hands sexy. Suddenly her mind filled with images of Alex trailing those big, masculine hands over her body. She wondered if he fit the stereotype. Big hands, big…

  “Are you considering taking me up on my offer?” The deep timbre of his voice pulled her from a host of fantasies. Willow dug her nails into her palm to get her head back in the game. She shouldn’t be thinking about this man in such a raw, sexual way.

  “Why not? My car’s parked in the back.” She probed through the nearby crowd to check if Alex came here with bodyguards. A virtual cacophony of conversations invaded her thoughts, but nothing about protection for Alex. Once she got him alone, she’d take her chances and pray she wouldn’t be outnumbered.

  “Then let’s get out of here, unless I’ve got some competition.” He motioned over her shoulder to the incubus whose head now lolled forward over the bar.

  “I think you’re flying solo.” She had set her trap and let the consequences be damned. Willow rubbed her finger along the rim of the glass and licked off the salt.

  She was savoring the tangy flavor of margarita mix along with the zing of tequila as it slid down her throat. Headrush. No surprise there. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept or eaten in the past forty-eight hours, existing on a combination of raw nerves and pure adrenaline.

  “You missed a spot.” He ran his thumb along the seam of her lip. He put it to his mouth and licked. “Mmm, sweet.” Her plan didn’t involve foreplay…but damn he was hot. In another time and another place she’d be seriously into this guy. Too bad I might have to kill him.

  “I do like my tequila, but every now and then a girl needs something a little stronger.”

  “Oh? What did you have in mind?”

  Now she had his attention. Willow decided to play it up for the final coup de grâce and offered the bait. She leaned over, allowing him to get a glimpse of the rolled-up wad of hundreds, a bonus from her last job, now tucked in her cleavage and held by her black, strapless demibra. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she purred.

  From the way his eyes widened with a mixture of shock and pure lust as they locked on her breasts, he clearly liked the view. Good. She’d be sure to use it to her advantage. “What are we waiting for?” When Alex reached into his pocket to pull out his cash, a pack of matches slipped out and fell on the floor. He shoved some bills at the bartender and waited for his change. Willow bent to pick up the matchbook, ready to hand it back, but when her fingers closed over the cover, she caught a glimpse of Maeve’s face contorted in pain.

  The image changed like a haze of smoke. Crouched next to Maeve’s lifeless body, a shadow of a man hovered nearby. Willow’s heart thudded in her chest as the shadow turned into form.

  Alex?

  Breath whooshed from her lips. The matches slipped from her grasp onto the floor. No wonder Maeve never showed up.

  “Hey, are you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.” Alex placed a hand on her shoulder.

  Goddess, she hoped not. “F-fine,” she lied.

  The bartender appeared and Alex made small talk with him as he cleared their glasses off the bar. At least it gave her a minute to think. If Alex was the one following her, maybe he’d been following Maeve as well. Panic edged around her throat and made a tight fist in her stomach. What if he tried to sell Maeve a bad batch of heroin to get her to talk, then left her to OD?

  She gritted her teeth and forced her fear into cold resolve. After years of practice, she’d become adept at pushing through her pain. Shaking, she picked up her drink to take a sip and calm her nerves, when she noticed her white-knuckled grip around the glass. Don’t break it. Don’t break it. A moment later, it shattered in her hands.

  “Damn,” she groaned as a broken piece sank into her index finger. Blood gushed from her hand and dripped onto the bar.

  “Shit. You’re bleeding.” Alex grabbed a handful of bar napkins, wrapped them around her finger and squeezed. “Hold on. Let me try to find a real bandage.” He signaled the bartender as she squeezed at her makeshift bandage until the bleeding stopped.

  When Alex turned back to face her, he removed the napkin and ripped open the wrapper of a bandage with his teeth. “I would never peg such a slender lady like yourself for crushing a bar glass. Remind me not to piss you off.”

  Too late. “I can’t believe how clumsy I am sometimes.” She couldn’t deny a part of her was attracted to him. But if Alex had harmed Maeve in any way, tonight he’d pay for his sins. Did he take advantage of the situation by playing on her weakness? “It’s not fair, a man as attractive as you who’s also funny.” He lifted her hand to kiss her bandaged finger, and she forced herself not to cringe.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely.” Through the corner of her eye, she noticed Alex glance across the bar at a hulking male nursing a beer by himself. She sucked in a breath when she caught a glimpse of the holstered side arm under his suit jacket. Hmm, demon bodyguard?

  Alex inclined his head toward him and winked. Did he actually think he’d make a sale and get laid? A real multitasking, drug-dealing sleaze bag. There could be no witnesses for what she had in mind. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “I’ll follow you.”

  “Good, because I like to take the lead.” She grabbed his hand and guided him to the side entra
nce of the club, used for delivery only. Once they were outside, no one would notice them, not at this time of night. They passed through the crowd to the other side of the bar and exited the building.

  When the heavy door closed behind them, she froze. She stared over the railing to the ten foot drop below and her stomach dipped. Goddess, she hated heights.

  Her mind reeled as she peered out into the darkness in search of stairs or something to grab onto, but only found a steep ramp covered in ice and snow. Her heart pounded in her ears…in her throat.

  “Willow?” Alex’s voice whispered to her from somewhere far away.

  The urge to throw herself flush against the building and squeeze her eyes shut became overwhelming. Get it together. She bit down hard on her lip instead and forced her legs down the ramp. When her boots touched the sidewalk, she breathed a sigh of relief. “S-sorry, I forgot where I parked.” She waited until his footsteps crunched behind her, then spun around.

  A flicker of moonlight danced across his handsome face. Cold air filled her lungs and pebbled along her skin. “First, I’d like to get a taste of what you’re offering.” Willow took a step closer to him. Puffs of icy breath slipped from her lips like white smoke in the frigid night air.

  “Willow, wait. There’s something you should know.”

  “Later,” she murmured and grabbed him by his collar. She tilted her head to the side and opened her mouth. She cracked an eye open and waited for him to lean into her, close enough to catch a whiff of scotch and peppermint on his warm breath, then she head-butted him.

  Alex howled in pain and stumbled backward. Willow didn’t give him time to right himself. Instead, she thrust out her leg to the side and hit him with a roundhouse kick under the chin. His head smashed onto the pavement with a sickening thud. Pity, the big ones always did go down hard.

  She glanced at his crumbled body and then pressed her boot to his neck. At least the stilettos had come in handy.

  His eyes widened in shock. A gurgling sound erupted from his throat. She pulled one of her athames from her hip belt and pointed it straight at his groin. “Tell me, Alex,” she said with a smile. “Are you fond of your dick?”

  Don’t stop now. Keep reading with your copy of MIDNIGHT DESIRE by City Owl Author, Shari Nichols, available now.

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  About the Author

  RACHEL SULLIVAN is a dog-hugger and tree-lover. Growing up with three sisters sparked her passion for both women's history and women's advocacy, which led to her career as a birth doula and childbirth educator. These days she channels those passions into researching and writing fiction, concentrating on birthing books rather than babies.

  When she's not writing, Rachel works in reference and circulation services at a public library. She enjoys exploring nature, learning, wine tasting, attempting to grow her own food, and reading. She lives near Seattle, Washington.

  www.rachelsullivan.net

  About the Publisher

  City Owl Press is a cutting edge indie publishing company, bringing the world of romance and speculative fiction to discerning readers.

  www.cityowlpress.com

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