Man about the House (Wicked Wraiths)

by Mina Carter

  Trouble was, with Janelle he didn’t want to. For the first time in his life, Corvin’s first choice of action wasn’t anything to do with his celestial powers. He wanted to do this right. Properly. He’d made this mess so now he had to fix it.

  He inched the door open, some instinct warning him to keep it between him and her for the moment — an instinct which proved to be wise as he saw her standing there, her stance wide and bat held high, ready to swing.

  “You!”

  “Janelle, I can explain,” he said hastily, seeing the violence written in her eyes at the sight of him.

  Her full lips compressed. “Yeah, you fucking will. And it had better be a damn good explanation.”

  “Would it be too much to ask for you to put the bat down?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was as short and uncompromising as the look in her eyes.

  “Okay. Just checking. Just… don’t hit me until you’ve heard me out, please?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him as he edged out from behind the door. The absurdity of the situation hit him full force, but Corvin daren’t even crack a smile. Something warned him any sort of flippancy on his part, and she’d take his head off.

  “Not making any guarantees. Now talk, I’m listening.”

  Corvin nodded quickly. She wasn’t swinging yet. That was a good sign, surely? “Okay, talking. I’m Corvin –”

  “Yeah, I got that bit. How about you skip the introductions and get to the part where you fucking lie and pretend to be a wraith to get into my bed?”

  The fury in her voice was in check but it was still there. Corvin winced. This was the bit he wasn’t looking forward to. “Hmm. Would it help if I start off by saying I’m sorry?”

  “You could.”

  The bat rose a little higher as her eyes sparkled. Despite the fact he was in imminent danger of large amounts of violence and bodily harm, Corvin couldn’t help but admire her. The flush of anger on her cheeks, the way her breasts rose and fell with her harsh breathing, she was magnificent. His cock, which hadn’t been at less than half-mast all damn morning, sprang to attention again, hard, aching and ready for action.

  “Well, I am sorry. Just let me say that before you start swinging. Other than that, I don’t really have an excuse.”

  Corvin knew he had to talk quickly before she ran out of patience, so he ran his words together in an effort to get them out. “Apart from the fact in the club last night I met the woman of my dreams — and she shot me down.”

  Murder filled her eyes. “So then you moved onto me?”

  “No!” Corvin shook his head then — he couldn’t help it — the grin he’d been suppressing started to spread over his lips. “You’re gorgeous when you’re mad, you know?”

  “Answer the fucking question before I lose my temper.”

  Her tone was threatening and she raised her arms and the bat a little higher, but he could see the pleased smile just starting to tug at the corner of her lips.

  Corvin wasn’t a virgin. Hell, he was nowhere near it. In fact, he was about as close to the legendary lover as you could get without actually being called Casanova. So he was more than experienced with women, and everything about Janelle was telling him she could be charmed. That she wanted to be charmed.

  “I walked into that club bored and intent on nothing other than getting as plastered as I could and try to drown out Hex and Storm’s arguing. Then there you were, on the other side of the club, like something out of a dream.” He risked a step away from the door, glancing at the bat before he looked into her eyes. Yeah, she wanted to be charmed. She wanted to believe him. He could see it in her eyes, in the slight relaxation of her arms.

  “You dream about short, plump women who collect glasses often?”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re fucking gorgeous. Why else do you think I pretended to be a wraith?” Shit, wrong thing to say. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Corvin realised his mistake. Her eyes hardened and the bat came up again.

  “Hmmm, I don’t think you should have reminded her of that.”

  A male voice broke into the conversation. Both Corvin and Janelle swung around toward the door. A man stood there, one shoulder propped against the frame.

  All his protective instincts flaring, Corvin plucked the bat from Janelle’s hand and stepped in front of her, the impromptu weapon held at his side but with the threat of violence hanging in the air. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Hey, give that back! Hi, Jacob.”

  Okay, answers that question. So, who the fuck was Jacob? An ex-boyfriend? He’d have to be close to her to just walk into her apartment. Corvin looked from Janelle to Jacob, a small suspicion flaring into all out jealousy within a heartbeat.

  His eyes narrowed as he sized up his competition. Jacob pushed off from the door and sauntered into the room. He was tall and lean, with angular features Corvin knew some women found attractive. Even without his powers, Corvin knew he could take the guy in a fight. He was taller, with a longer reach. But something about the way the guy walked, the inherent grace and threat in his poise, made him pause a little.

  Jacob stopped well out of range of the bat and eyed Corvin up and down. Then he transferred his attention to Janelle. “Well, he’s not a wraith. That I can tell you for sure.”

  “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Tell me something I haven’t figured out for myself, would ya?” Janelle threw back as she tried to slip out from behind Corvin. She wasn’t fast enough, not for him. Putting out a restraining hand, he blocked her progress. He couldn’t help the amusement that filled him, warring with his jealousy. Seemed he wasn’t the only one his Janelle gave shit to.

  His Janelle. God, that sounded good.

  “Wanna move out of my way, Mr. I’m-not-a-wraith?”

  “Not until someone tells me what’s going on. Are you and lover boy here an item?” Corvin demanded, wanting nothing more than to swing for the smug bastard right here and now. At his words, though, both looked confused.

  “What? Me and Jacob?” Janelle chuckled. “He’s not my type. Besides, he’s married to my best friend who would have my guts for garters if I made a move on him.”

  “You and me both,” Jacob added. “And Tori in a bad mood? I’ve seen enough of that once a month, thank you very much. I don’t need to tempt fate.”

  “Ah.”

  The tension and jealousy in Corvin’s body drained away, leaving him feeling a little stupid. So the guy wasn’t a former lover of Tori’s. Good. At least he didn’t have to pound him into the dirt for touching her, or take him to task for letting such a woman get away. Just the contrary nature of those desires was enough to give him a headache. “So, who are you?”

  Jacob shrugged nonchalantly, his sharp eyes centered on Corvin’s face. He resisted the urge to roll his shoulders to try and get rid of the weird little itch there. It was like Jacob was looking right through him, down to his soul.

  “The guy who wrote the spell which called you here, or rather called Terathel here. Who is, of course, now rather confused as he felt the summoning, but it dumped him in an empty apartment on the other side of town — a guy’s apartment, to boot. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  He’d written the summoning spell. Jacob was a sorcerer. Now it started to make sense.

  “If I was to make a guess, I’d say the spell put him — Terathel, did you say?”

  Jacob nodded, folding his arms. The silver rings across his fingers and the tattoo on the fleshy part between his thumb and forefinger caught Corvin’s eye. Great! The guy was wearing one of his mother’s sigils. How screwed was he? If he fucked about with one of his mom’s pets, his ass would be nailed to the wall in the Underworld for a couple of centuries at least.

  “…put Terathel in my place and me in his.”

  “Okay, so how did you manage that? Those spells are designed to be foolproof, unhackable. Otherwise we’d have kids calling up all kinds of nasties.” Jacob’s voice was unco
mpromising, all his attention focused on Corvin. With both the sorcerer and Janelle looking at him, he was beginning to realise what a goldfish felt like.

  It was Corvin’s turn to shrug, a one-shouldered gesture he’d picked up from his mother. “You’ve not worked it out yet, then? I’m surprised. Badass sorcerer like yourself? What are you, fourth level, at the least?”

  Janelle punched him in the shoulder, drawing his attention back to her. “Excuse me. We’re the ones asking the questions, mate, not you. Any funny stuff and Jacob will turn you into a frog!”

  “He doesn’t have the power. Even if he did, frogs get kissed, don’t they?” Corvin grinned broadly and dragged her into a quick embrace to plant a quick kiss on her full lips. It was end game here, so, like it or not, he was getting a last taste of those lips, just in case.

  She looked up at him, dark eyes suspicious. Interestingly she didn’t seem so pissed about being kissed. “What do you mean he –”

  “ — I don’t have the power?” Jacob finished Janelle’s question off, a new suspicion entering his eyes. Lifting a hand, he muttered a word under his breath, a word of power and query.

  Corvin’s head rocked back as the magical force hit him, his eyes closing as the air whipped around him in a mini-tornado. Seconds later it disappeared. He opened his eyes slowly to look directly at the other man.

  “Shit!”

  “What?” Janelle asked, then turned to Corvin. “Will you let go, you big bloody oaf?” she demanded, slapping his bare shoulder. Reluctantly, he let her go. She looked back at Jacob. The sorcerer’s face mirrored shock as he dropped his hand, shaking his head. “What? What did you see?”

  Corvin turned to her. “He saw what I am, Janelle. I’m not a wraith, no, but I’m not human either. When I left you in the club’s kitchen, I was desperate to find a way to see you again. I knew you wouldn’t come back out into the club so when I found the scroll…”

  “You went through my purse?” Her eyes narrowed at him again, promising dire retribution for that act of trespass.

  “Not on purpose. I stumbled into the lockers and it fell out. The scroll kinda… rolled out. I read it, realised what it was and got my friend Hex to curse me into wraith form for twelve hours.” Corvin sighed. “But the daft son of a bitch can’t count. The curse wore off two hours early.”

  “So, and forgive me if I keep going on about this one, but what the hell are you?”

  “A god. Well, technically I think he’s a demi-god,” Jacob broke in as Corvin paused.

  He shot the other man a grateful smile. He hated telling people what he was. It sounded so damn arrogant… “I’m a god.” Besides, if he’d thought it would impress Janelle, he’d have played the god card a lot sooner. “Corvin, son of Minerva,” Corvin concluded with a bow.

  “You’re one of the god-pack?” she asked in disbelief, looking him up and down in disbelief. “I heard about you guys. You’ve not been into the club since I started working there though.”

  “Yeah. We were barred. Hex, as usual, got pissed the last time we were in and turned the security staff into pink flamingos. Management was not at all happy.”

  “What? Even Steve?” A delighted twinkle entered her eyes.

  Corvin smiled at her amusement. He’d sensed the antagonism between the two last night. If he was sticking around, actually even if he wasn’t, he and Steve were going to be having a chat. “Yeah, even Steve. So, what do you reckon, Janelle? We need the chaperone anymore?” Corvin jerked his head toward Jacob. “No offense, mate, but I’m not going to hurt her, and we need to discuss things, preferably without an audience.”

  “None taken.” Jacob looked at Janelle, a question in his eyes. When she nodded, he sighed. “Tori is so going to kick my ass about this but okay. You hurt her, and I don’t care who your mom is or who your friends are, I’ll saddle up and hunt you down.” He grinned, the threat implicit in his expression. “And I’m not fourth level — try seventh.”

  Janelle watched her friend’s husband leave. When the door closed behind him with a soft click, she turned to Corvin. “Okay, you’ve got two minutes. Then, if I don’t like what you’ve got to say, I’m kicking your ass out, god or no god.”

  He took a deep breath. He’d never taken much notice of the instincts he’d inherited from his mother. The powers, yes. What guy didn’t think being able to throw thunderbolts was cool? But not the other stuff so much, and it was that side which was setting off all kinds of alarms. He knew that what he said next would irrevocably alter his life, good or bad.

  “Janelle. I don’t know what else to tell you, darlin’.” Gently, he reached out and took her hand. His voice rang with honesty as he pulled her slowly toward him. Not a demand, she could get away if she wanted to, but a request. “The instant I saw you, I wanted you, but you wouldn’t talk to me. I had to get drunk to even get you to clear the table.” He searched her face as he spoke, his heart falling at her set expression. “Nothing I say is going to make a difference, is it?”

  He should have expected this. He’d lied and cheated to get her into bed. What woman would have anything to do with him after that? He let go of her hand and stepped back. A quick wave of his hand supplied a shirt and boots to go with his jeans. “I’m sorry, Janelle.” He risked a quick glance at her. Her expression was still set, her lips pursed. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I guess… it was the only way I could think of to get close to you, especially when you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Not your type, huh? I’ll let myself out.”

  With a heavy heart, he headed for the door. He’d blown it. Hex was going to laugh until he pissed himself over how he’d spent twelve hours as a sex wraith and still got his ass dumped before he could get a second date.

  “Wait.” Her voice stopped him as his hand landed on the door handle. Hope slammed into him, constricting his heart until he could barely breathe. He didn’t turn around. He daren’t. “Did you mean that?”

  Her voice was closer, as though she’d moved toward him. He turned his head slightly, not to look at her, but to make sure he was hearing her properly.

  “Mean what?”

  “Everything. Did you really want… me that much?” She was right behind him when she spoke again, her voice filled with an odd mixture of curiosity and hope. “You said you weren’t my type, but it’s not that at all. It’s more I’m not — can’t be — your type. Surely?”

  Corvin’s knuckles tightened on the door handle until they showed white. “Asking me or telling me?”

  “Asking.”

  Turning, he caught her gaze with his. Indecision showed plainly in her chocolate brown eyes. “Darlin’, you’re more than my type. You’re freaking perfect for me. Do you think I’d go to this much trouble for a passing fancy?”

  “Yeah, but you’re…” She shrugged, and nibbled her lower lip. Corvin crossed the short distance in two steps and wrapped his hands around her upper arms.

  “What do I have to do to persuade you that you’re perfect just as you are?” he demanded, wanting to shake her. The desire must have shown in his eyes because an answering fire filled hers.

  “Well, being with me without bloody lying would be a good start!”

  Corvin dragged her into his arms, his hands smoothing down her waist and over the flare of her hips possessively. Far from the fight he was expecting, she all but melted against him. “I’m not lying now,” he whispered, tilting her chin up so he could gaze deep into her eyes. “This is who I am, what I am. Give us another chance? Give me another chance? A chance to start again, do it right this time?”

  “Well, that depends. Why should I?” Janelle arched her eyebrow as she asked. She wasn’t sure why she was even thinking of giving him a second chance. The little voice in her head, the one that sounded suspiciously like an incredulous Tori, demanded to know what the hell she thought she was playing at. Janelle ignored it, still watching him.

  He’d lied. He’d gotten his friend to turn him into a wraith for the night so he c
ould seduce her, but if seduction was all he was interested in, he could have just faded out this morning, and she wouldn’t have been any the wiser. So why had he hung about when he knew the chances of him being caught increased with every passing second.

  “You shouldn’t. I was wrong… but, thank you.”

  That surprised her and she let it show on her face, leaning back in his hold to look up into his face. His stark male beauty made her stare again. And he was all hers? “Thank you for what?”

  He smiled, a quirk of his sinfully full lips. “For making me see, making me grow up. I — I’ve always brushed things off in the past, you see. Ignored problems or made them go away when I’ve screwed up.” He shrugged, colour tinting his high cheekbones as he looked away in embarrassment for a second. Within a heartbeat his blue eyes met hers again, the expression in them earnest. “But this time, with you, it’s different. I screwed up, so I wanted to make things right. I have to make them right.”

  Janelle nodded. A hot guy who was prepared to do anything to possess her, who’d actually got his friend to curse him so he could treat her to the hottest night of sex she’d ever had. She’d be nuts to let him go, especially when he was so determined to put things right. “And does starting again mean we have to wait for sex?”

  “God, I hope not. But if that’s what you want…”

  She smiled and pressed closer. His breathing caught as she walked her fingertips across his broad chest. “Then let’s start again, with the sex part, and go from there?”

  About the Author

  Mina was born and raised in the East Farthing of Middle Earth (otherwise known as the Midlands, England) and spend her childhood learning all the sorts of things generally required of a professional adventurer. Able to ride, box, shoot, make and read maps, make chainmail and use a broadsword (with varying degrees of efficiency) she was disgusted to find that adventuring is not considered a suitable occupation these days.