Grave Witch

by Kalayna Price

Page 40

  Author: Kalayna Price

  “You’re drunk. ”

  “Pixie brandy,” he agreed.

  Great—so how are we getting home? A yellow—and to my eyes rusted-out—car was parked up the street, a small taxi light glowing on the top. I pointed to it. “Get us in that taxi. ”

  Falin nodded, and I released my touch on the grave, closing my shields. Darkness fell before my eyes, the chill wrapping tighter around me. I clung to Falin, letting him guide me down the stairs. I stumbled on the way up the street, my shaking too unstable to keep my legs under me. Falin wasn’t completely steady, either.

  A door opened, and Falin guided me into the backseat of the cab. He slid in behind me, and I drew my legs to my chest, trying to trap some body heat. It didn’t help.

  My teeth chattered, shivers wracking my body.

  “Where to?” a gruff voice in the front seat asked.

  “Uh …” I mumbled as Falin rattled off my address.

  “I charge the estimate up front in this neighborhood,” the cabbie said.

  Falin grumbled under his breath, but the seat moved as he reached for his wallet. “Keep the change,” he said as he reached around me.

  The cabbie grunted his thanks, and Falin tapped something plastic near my head.

  “Close this partition, will you?” he said.

  Another grunt issued from the front seat. Then a small motor cut on, and the noise from the front of the cab faded. The plastic seat squeaked as Falin settled back and dropped an arm around my shoulders.

  “You stopped the dance,” he whispered.

  I shrugged, only half paying attention. Now that we were safely speeding away from the club, the adrenaline that had been spiking through me and providing at least a false source of warmth was fading, leaving me trembling harder than before. Falin’s arm emanated heat where it draped around me, and I scooted closer to him, snuggling up to his warmth.

  I’d planned on stopping there—really, I had—but his arms slid around my waist and gathered me into his lap. Loose tendrils of his hair fell forward on my cheeks, silky soft and warm from being close to his skin. They smelled clean, spicy. My hand rose to the hair, following it until I reached his face. My fingers traced the curve of his jaw up to his ear and then trailed the sharp angle of his cheek until I found the crease of his mouth. I traced the curve of his bottom lip, and his hand moved from my back to my neck.

  With his fingers curling in my hair, he pulled me forward until I could feel his breath tumbling over my lips.

  Then he closed that space.

  The kiss was gentle, his lips firm but giving, and warmth spread through me. I sighed against his mouth. The hand caught in my hair tightened, drawing me harder against him. His tongue dipped between my lips, bringing with it the honey taste of pixie brandy.

  Pixie brandy?

  I reeled backward, and he growled, dragging me to his mouth again. His lips were more demanding now, but as his tongue flicked into my mouth, it teased, taunting me to follow it into his mouth as it retreated. I shouldn’t be doing this. But he was so warm.

  And the hard planes of his chest begged to be explored.

  My palms slid down, following the hard ripple of muscle until I reached the place where the shirt disappeared into his pants. Tugging the shirt free, I splayed my fingers over the warm skin of his stomach. He made a sound deep in his throat, and my heart skipped. Of their own volition, my hands moved higher, finally learning the answer to the question I’d had since seeing him in his kitchen. Smooth. The material of his shirt tangled around my wrists, stopping my progress. I tugged at the material in frustration. He shifted, and the movement freed the tension in the fabric.

  I didn’t realize he’d unbuttoned my shirt until his hand slid through the gaping cloth, his warm fingers gliding up the edge of my rib cage. The skin over my stomach tightened at his touch, awareness spiraling much lower than his fingers had traveled. As his thumb dipped below the top of my jeans I moaned into his mouth.

  Rough fingers grabbed my shoulder, pulling me backward.

  I yelped, my back arching as the hand seared my skin through the thin layer of my blouse.

  “Enough of that,” the cabbie yelled without releasing my shoulder. “Wait till you get out the car. ”

  The vehicle had stopped. I hadn’t even noticed. The click of the door opening sounded from my left, and the cabbie finally let go. I was still sitting in Falin’s lap, so I gingerly felt my way out of the back of the cab. The night breeze against my chest reminded me my shirt was still unbuttoned, and I gripped it closed with one hand, the other remaining on the side of the cab.

  I could feel the familiar ambience of Caleb’s magic in front of me, but without help, I wasn’t going to find my way to the stairs without a lot of blind fumbling.

  Falin didn’t leave me lost. After slamming the cab door, he wrapped his arms around me.

  I pushed away from him. “We should go inside. ”

  His hair fell forward, brushing my cheek. A nod? He scooped me into his arms and swayed as he took the stairs one at a time.

  “I can walk. ”

  He didn’t put me down.

  I fidgeted with the buttons on the front of my shirt, trying to refasten them one-handed.

  “Stop,” Falin said, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m looking at those. ”

  He shook me gently, and I threw my arms around his neck to steady myself. The fabric of my shirt slid back apart.

  “That’s better,” he said, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

  Is he really staring at my chest? I couldn’t see, so I couldn’t tell, but my traitorous body flooded with heat at the thought.

  He lowered me to my feet at the top of the stairs, and I dug through my purse for my keys. I fumbled for the lock, the keys jingling in time to my trembling. He took the keys from me, unlocking and pushing open the door.

  The house wards slid over me as he dragged me inside.

  His lips found mine before the door shut. He backed me against the wall, and his gloved hands roamed my stomach. Dropped away. Returned gloveless. His bare fingers roved my body, his mouth never leaving mine.

  His thumbs hitched under the wire of my bra, and I trembled. God, I need this. But … I pushed back, gasping for air as our lips broke apart. He didn’t relent. When I turned away, his lips trailed up my jaw, leaving small kisses in their wake.

  “You’re drunk,” I whispered.

  “So?” He nipped at a soft spot of skin where my jaw and neck connected. His blunt teeth grazing the skin sent another tremble through me, my mind blanking out for a moment.

  I pushed against his shoulders hard. With my back against the wall, something had to give, and he wasn’t quite as strong as the wood.

  “So, there was a spell in the brandy. It’s affecting your judgment. ”

  He swore under his breath and grabbed my wrists, pulling my palms from his shoulder. He leaned in until his words rolled across my lips in puffs of his breath.

  “You think I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t drunk?”

  To demonstrate which “this” he meant, his lips closed over mine. The kiss was restrained, breaking almost before it began. My stomach flipped, craving the passion of a moment before. Stupid, Alex. This is a bad idea.

  I shook my head. No. If he weren’t drunk, we wouldn’t be here.

  He kissed me again, his tongue dipping in my mouth before he broke away. “I would. ” He whispered the words directly into my lips, and I moaned. We were close enough that I could feel his lips stretch into a smile at the sound.

  His thumbs hooked under my bra and lifted so his fingers could trace the curves of my breasts.

  “Stop. ” The word came out more a gasp than a command.

  His fingers paused but didn’t withdraw. “Why?”

  “We shouldn’t … If you weren’t drunk, you wouldn’t—”

 
; “Are you telling me what I would and wouldn’t do?” he asked, his lips dropping to my throat.

  One hand slipped free of my bra and circled around my back. His fingers landed on the bra clasp and in one quick movement unsnapped it. His other hand took advantage of the slack and cupped my breast, his thumb circling my nipple.

  I gasped again, my lips moving without words. Falin took it as an invitation, his tongue dancing into my mouth so there was no room left to protest.

  I pulled back, wiggling away from where he’d pinned me to the wall.

  “Coffee?” I asked breathlessly, desperate for a distraction.

  He didn’t give up but grabbed my arm. “You know, for someone with your reputation, you are amazingly difficult to get into bed. ”

  My mouth fell open, and my hand shot out. My palm contacted his shoulder, doing no damage at all besides smarting my hand. He laughed, drawing me into the circle of his arms. Irritated, I shoved him for good measure, and he swayed. Right. Forgot he’s drunk.

  He righted himself easily and then scooped me off my feet. Air rushed around me as he tossed me; then I landed with a bounce on the bed. The mattress shifted as he crawled on after me.

  “Does that mean I’m different from other drunks you pick up?” he asked, pushing the blouse off my shoulders.

  His fingers brought goose bumps to my arm as he traced my collarbone. His lips followed his fingers, carefully avoiding the scratches at the far edge.

  “No. It’s—”

  His teeth grazed my skin, cutting off my words. His fingers dug into my sides, then released one at a time, as if he was prying them off. Air moved by me as he looked up. His hand moved to my chin, tilting my head back as if my blind eyes could meet his.

  “If I’m not different, then I’m just another man you’ve picked to chase off your grave-chill with my body heat. And you are just a woman whose body will help me ignore the spelled drink surging through my system. ”

  My stomach twisted at the words. Just a woman? Just a body? But he was right. We were exactly what each other needed at the moment. Nothing more.

  I nodded, slipping out of my shirt. Then I slid to the edge of the bed and worked at my bootlaces.

  His hands slid down my arms, stilled my fingers.

  “What are you doing?”