Bishop

by Gabelman, Teresa

  “No, you’re not,” Bishop replied, gently pulling his arm away. “I know most humans don’t like the taste of blood, but only a few drops should do, and your pain will be gone.”

  In all honesty, Bonnie wondered what the big deal was about the blood of a vampire. She had never herself tasted any but knew others who had. With a nod of agreement, she watched as he used his fangs to puncture his skin, then held his wrist out to her. The two beads of blood appeared, and she slowly lowered her mouth to his wrist.

  His blood hit her tongue as a tingling sensation strummed through her body, consuming her with feelings. Her senses were in overdrive. The taste of him, the smell of him, and the feel of him caused a moan to catch in the back of her throat. His blood was warm, which surprised her. She thought it would be cold with a metallic taste, but she was oh so wrong. His taste was something she couldn’t describe in words and the way it made her feel was hypnotizing, as if she couldn’t get enough. The pulls of her mouth on his wrist became a little frantic, shocking her, but she couldn’t stop.

  It was actually Bishop who stopped her. “That’s enough. Too much isn’t a good thing.”

  Bonnie’s eyes were wide as she pulled her mouth away, touching her lips with her fingertips. “Now I know why you’re so addictive,” she said, then cleared her throat. What the hell was she saying? “I mean your blood. Your blood is addictive.”

  A half-grin formed on his lips as he stared down at her. “How do you feel?”

  “Great.” Bonnie sighed, wanting nothing more than to jump in his arms and…. Wait a minute. This so wasn’t her. She moved away from him, surprised and relieved the movement didn’t hurt. “I mean yeah, it feels much better. As if it didn’t happen.”

  “Good.” His grin slipped as he stood. He grabbed the single chair in her room, then placed it next to the bed and straddled it. “Now, about that aversion spell.”

  Bonnie needed to get her ass in gear and stop being a slobbering mess. It was just blood. He was just a man and she needed to steer clear. Not only for her own sanity, but his as well. Digging deep for the smartass she knew she was, she pulled the covers over her bare legs.

  “What about it?” She shrugged and felt her nipples harden as his eyes dropped to her white tank top. Yeah, no bra, white, and well… shit, she couldn’t blame him for looking. It was like they were screaming, “Hey, look at these ta-tas, big boy.” Fighting the urge to tell him where her eyes were like she had done to countless men in the past, she sat still, secretly loving the lust in his gaze. Yeah, she wasn’t going to say a damn word for more reasons than one.

  Finally, his gaze rose. Their eyes met and what came out of his mouth made her smile… dammit.

  “Huh?” His voice was deep, rough, and her body ached at the sound.

  “What about it?” she repeated slowly, a tinge of smartass rearing its ugly head.

  Bishop’s eyes narrowed slightly as if realizing what had just happened. “Bonnie, stop playing games.”

  “Games?” That snapped her out of smartass right into anger. “I don’t play games, Bishop. I don’t have time for games. None of us do. The reason for my aversion spell is my business. Mine alone.”

  “Not if it involves me,” Bishop growled, leaning forward slightly.

  Okay, this was getting way too personal. Bonnie didn’t do personal, just like she didn’t play games. Her life was too fucked up to get personal with anyone, let alone someone who could steal her heart and then die because of her. Not happening. Not on her watch, and not while she drew breath.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Warrior.” Bonnie cocked her eyebrow at him. “This aversion spell has everything to do with anyone who comes into contact with me.”

  Bishop stood fast, knocking the chair out of his way as he leaned over the bed and was right smack in her face. “Drop the fucking aversion spell, Bonnie.”

  Whipping the covers off, she got up on her knees and leaned toward him. The only thing was he didn’t move, and they were now nose to nose. “Don’t even think you can order me to do anything. Good luck with that.” She snorted, but her eyes narrowed; she wasn’t backing down. “Many have tried and failed.”

  Healed from his blood, she felt stronger, much stronger. She doubled her power on the spell as a “fuck you” to his order. His expression clued her into the fact he felt her magic. His phone began to ring, but he ignored it. Finally, it stopped only to start up again.

  “You going to answer that?” Bonnie said; they were still nose to nose, and honestly, her eyes were starting to cross.

  Backing up slightly, he answered. “What?” he all but shouted into the phone. “Dammit. I’ll be there.”

  Bonnie couldn’t help it. She was fucking turned on by his intensity. Yeah, the aversion spell didn’t affect her, so her attraction to this man was off the charts. Maybe it was time for her to walk. Move on and away from everyone she was beginning to care about. It never ended well for those people. Her eyes rose from the bed to his where he continued to stare at her.

  “What?” she whispered, tired of the fight, yet fighting was what she was best at, thanks to her piece-of-shit father.

  “Drop the aversion spell,” Bishop demanded, his golden eyes narrowed.

  “No.” Bonnie’s voice wavered slightly. With her whole being she wanted to do as he demanded and wasn’t that right there a mindfuck?

  “Now that I know I will never give you peace.” Bishop reached out and touched her cheek. “Drop it, Bonnie.”

  “My magic is strong. I could even make you hate me.” Bonnie countered, but sat back on her heels and stared up at him as if in defeat. The thought of him hating her, gutted Bonnie. Goddess, she was exhausted.

  “Your magic is strong, but I could never hate you.” Bishop pulled his hand away as a frown formed across his lips. “You can’t push everyone away.”

  “I’ve done a damn good job so far.” She shrugged as if the thought of the loneliness she had suffered over the years didn’t faze her.

  “Actually, you haven’t,” Bishop replied, with such confidence Bonnie seriously wanted to slap him.

  “Excuse me?” Bonnie put her hand on her hip, not realizing she was pressing her boobs out until his eyes shot downward briefly before lifting back to hers.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” He answered, his eyebrow cocked making him look sexy as hell.

  “Kissing you was like kissing my cousin. Now, who did I hear that from recently? Christmas Eve I believe it was.” She cocked her eyebrow right back at him.

  “That would be me, but I think I just proved to you that was a mistake.” Bishop followed with an honest to God growl, but he did keep his gaze on hers and not her boobs.

  “No, that was magic.” Damn, she kinda liked sparring with this man. It was invigorating to the point she wanted to jump him. Ugh, she needed to get her shit together, and fast. All her mind went to was jumping this Warrior. Before she knew what was happening, he moved so fast she was in his arms, pressed against the hardness of his body.

  “Now that I know, I will fight it and I will win. Amp up that magic, witch,” Bishop hissed, staring down at her before his lips slammed against hers.

  As far as kisses went, Bonnie had never been kissed like this before in her life. It was all-consuming, touching her mind, body, and soul. It was rough yet tender, and she couldn’t get enough. It felt right… too right, and by the feel of his lower body, she knew he definitely was not thinking of her as his cousin.

  As abruptly as the kiss started, it stopped, and she felt empty. How odd. Opening her eyes slowly, they met his.

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  At first, she thought he meant the kiss and wanted to slap him for the insult, but then her mind started to function, and she knew exactly what he meant. Her magic.

  “You took me by surprise,” she shot back. She tried not to wince at the rasp in her voice from the passion of the kiss. It didn’t even sound like her own voice at all.

  “Bullshit.�
� He pressed his hardness against her with purpose, as if proving to her that her magic spell had no effect on him. “Never, and I mean never, try to trick me again with spells. And if you run…”

  She knew he caught her guilty expression before she could hide it.

  “…I will find you,” Bishop finished after giving her a warning look. “You do not control me or my feelings, Bonnie. At least not with witchcraft.”

  “Why? Why do you even care?” She pulled slightly away from him. “I’m a witch. You’re a witch killer.”

  “Was,” he corrected. “And I only kill those who deserve to die. Witches included.”

  “I will only bring you pain, Bishop. That’s all I ever bring anyone.” She tried to not only reason with him, but herself as well. Her mind screamed for her to do what he warned her against and that was to run, but her heart had other plans. “A happily ever after is not in the cards drawn for me. Never has been.”

  Bishop cupped her face and kissed her quickly, stealing her breath and her heart a little bit more. “I’ve never dealt those cards now, have I?” He backed away from her, then headed to the door. “Get dressed. Sloan needs to see us. I’ll wait out in the hallway.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” she whispered as the door closed behind Bishop.

  “Makes life interesting,” he said from the other side of the doorway, actually making her smile just as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

  Chapter 9

  “Nothing yet?” Wyrick stood in front of a computer screen staring over it at Orjyll, who just walked into the room. “But I know they got the message. It shouldn’t be long now.”

  Cursing, Orjyll’s hands fisted in anger. He hated to wait for anything. Waiting to regain his powers had made him that way. Fucking Grail females. Every single one of them were going to pay, and pay dearly. At first, he’d just sought them to kill them, but that was before. Now he had other plans. They would suffer in the most violent, deranged ways he could come up with, and damn his mind was morbid.

  “It better not be,” Orjyll said, then headed toward the window and looked out. He hated Wyrick. He was a snobby bastard who thought he was better than anyone, but time and time again, Orjyll proved him wrong. No one in his presence was better than him. He was once the most powerful warlock, and he would be again. The only reason he allowed Wyrick to live was because he needed him… for the moment. As soon as that moment was over, he’d kill the asshole himself.

  “This stuff takes time,” Wyrick said in his usual condescending tone. “You need to be more patient.”

  Orjyll’s face became a vision of rage. He stared through the reflection of the window. Patient? Waiting for years and years to regain his powers had run his patience very thin. For now, he knew Wyrick didn’t fear him, but he knew what the bastard’s true fear was. Sloan Murphy. A sick grin formed at the corner of Orjyll’s cruel mouth. He wondered briefly if Sloan Murphy would like to make a trade. His traitor of a daughter for the man who tried to kill him. Even with a man he hated as much as he did Sloan Murphy, he would definitely make that trade.

  He continued to stare at his reflection, seeing the lines creasing his skin. He needed youth. Losing his power and not able to perform that spell of youth on himself drove him mad, but what drove him to the edge was having to ask someone like Wyrick to do the deed. His hair was thinning and turning an ugly gray.

  “Call Roberta for me,” Orjyll demanded without turning around. He was once a very handsome man who could have any woman he wanted. Now, only a spell returned those looks.

  “Why?” Wyrick asked, and Orjyll knew he now gained his full attention. One thing about Wyrick was he always needed to be number one. The other warlocks and witches he surrounded himself with were below him, or so Wyrick thought. “What do you need?”

  “My dick sucked,” Orjyll said with a flippant edge. “Unless of course you want that honor.”

  This time, Orjyll did turn only his head to look at Wyrick. That was one secret Wyrick would die to keep. Orjyll had walked in to find a young warlock on his knees pleasuring a very wicked Wyrick. Orjyll had actually stood and watched just to make sure Wyrick knew he was there.

  “I don’t know what you think you saw, but…,” Wyrick sputtered, only stopping when he saw Orjyll’s expression.

  “Your perversion to the young warlock is what I saw, but who am I to judge? Hmm? You want cock? That’s your business.” Orjyll turned fully toward him. “Just make sure the warlocks are agreeable because I don’t need that drama upon my house.”

  The hate on Wyrick’s face flashed very quickly, but Orjyll spotted it right away and knew he needed to watch his back. “Now, I need to freshen up,” Orjyll said, which was his way to tell Wyrick to use his magic to bring his appearance back up to par. Seeing the hesitation, he knew Wyrick was wondering if this was a good time to take Orjyll out. “Careful, my… friend. Those around me have been given strict orders that if something happens to me, to take you out first.”

  “You wound me, Orjyll.” Wyrick’s fake shock pissed Orjyll off even more. “I would never.”

  “And that’s the smartest words you’ve spoken today. Believable is another matter,” Orjyll said, feeling the magic working. He felt stronger, more vibrant, and horny as fuck. Anytime this spell was used on him, everything outside and inside his body came alive with an almost violent vibrancy. His cock throbbed, which was why Roberta had been summoned. She was a beautiful brunette, who didn’t remind him of anyone. That’s the way he liked it. No memories as he released his lust upon whoever lay underneath him.

  “Roberta is on her way.” Wyrick’s eyes went to Orjyll’s dick then quickly away. He knew without a doubt, given the chance, Wyrick would be more than happy to kneel in front of him, but Orjyll didn’t roll that way. He didn’t frown on it, not at all. It just wasn’t his choice. During his younger days as a warlock, he had been involved in hundreds of orgies. Many opportunities had presented themselves, and he’d had a few males service his cock, but a female’s lips and tongue were his preference.

  What really pissed him off about Wyrick was his complete denial of his sexuality. If Orjyll did enjoy the same sex, he sure as hell wouldn’t give two fucks what anyone else thought. Wyrick’s complete refusal to admit—even when caught with his cock in a man’s mouth—that he enjoyed men said a lot about Wyrick. At least in Orjyll’s way of thinking, and in his house that was all that mattered.

  “Make sure you notify me as soon as she’s on,” Orjyll ordered, glancing once again at the computer. With the help of magic, his office was what he was accustomed to. High tech and the most expensive equipment witchcraft could buy. That was one good thing about Wyrick; he had good taste.

  “Have you thought about possibly making a deal with your daughter?” Wyrick asked, sitting down in the computer chair and turning it to look at Orjyll. “You would make an amazing team.”

  Eyes narrowing, Orjyll glared at him. “She is a Grail, or have you forgotten the curse?” Stupidity was something Orjyll could barely tolerate. “She dies in order to have my powers restored. Unless you have something useful, don’t suggest anything at all.”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten.” The anger in Wyrick’s voice was there, but he tamed it. “But once she helped you kill the other Grail females, we could take her out.”

  “Sure, Wyrick. As soon as she contacts us, I’ll bring that up to her,” Orjyll said with so much sarcasm, it dripped from each word. “You fucking idiot. I don’t pay you or keep you around for idiotic suggestions. Don’t even open your mouth unless you have something useful to say.”

  There was a knock on the door before it opened. “Did you need me?” Roberta asked, her eyes going from Wyrick then to Orjyll.

  “Come in,” Orjyll demanded, his gaze roaming her body, though he felt nothing. Wyrick’s stupidity totally did away with his hard-on. “Let me ask you a question, Roberta.”

  “Sure,” the witch said as she came further into the room. She was young, but very
smart and ambitious. Her venture into the black arts was an asset to him. Especially as she was beautiful, intelligent, and had an evil side that he enjoyed very much.

  “Do you think I should bring my bitch of a daughter in as a partner?” Orjyll felt Wyrick’s unease.

  At first, she hesitated, as if not really knowing how to answer. Her eyes shot nervously between Wyrick and Orjyll. She was definitely smart because both of them were powerful in their own rights. “Ah, no,” Roberta finally stated. “I think that would be a horrible mistake. She has already proven where her loyalty lies, and it’s not with you. Plus she’s a Grail, and….”

  Orjyll frowned. “And?” he asked after she trailed off.

  “I haven’t collected the bounty on her yet,” Roberta replied, then a wicked smile spread across her beautiful face.

  Orjyll’s head fell back as he laughed, but then cut it off abruptly. His eyes zeroed in on Wyrick. “I think maybe you need to take lessons from her, Wyrick. She seems to be the smarter of the two.”

  Taking Roberta’s hand, Orjyll led Roberta into the bedroom, his sexual need returning with a fury. “Knock if she comes on,” Orjyll ordered before slamming the door shut, but not before missing the glare full of hate shooting toward him from Wyrick. Soon his need for the bastard would be at an end, very soon.

  * * *

  Raven walked out the warehouse, her mood dark and grim. She needed to go back to the Guardian house and get her belongings. She really didn’t know where she was going to go. They just had a meeting with the Warriors and Sloan, stating they were going to build housing for the recruits because some had long commutes and others were out of state with no real place to go. Unfortunately, that didn’t help her now, but she knew her time with the Guardians was over. It was time to move on. She had some cash, but not enough to rent anywhere. Maybe a week in a motel at the most.

  Heading for her bike, she frowned. She knew her dad—damn that was weird to think—would help her, but she needed to do this on her own. Strapping her bag on the seat, she felt someone coming up to her. Being aware had kept her safe and she was ready for anything, but one whiff of the air, she knew only one person with that scent.