by Brenda Trim
“Jace is right, we will never be able to repay you, but if you ever need anything, all you have to do is call. You’re one of us now. Your sisters too,” Cailyn declared. She was a delicate human female. Well, not so human anymore. They had completed their mating and Pema sensed the shift in the female’s DNA that indicated she was now immortal like her mate.
“You owe us nothing. It was an honor to be called upon for such an important task. Not many in the realm would have taken the chance on us. We are impetuous, untrained witches,” Pema teased and winked at Cailyn. “Seriously though, I’m glad that we were able to help. And, it was the most challenging spell we have ever cast, so we actually owe you. Because we didn’t attend Callieach, we are never given the opportunity to practice such magic. Many of our customers are humans, only interested in love potions and tarot readings,” she laughed.
Black Moon’s top seller was their temporary love spells, which were lust potions really. To sell actual love potions would take free will away from an unsuspecting being, something they would never do. Speaking of lust, her body suddenly ignited with it. Her stomach clenched with need as her feminine folds heated and moistened. She drew in a breath, Goddess, Ronan was near.
Pema surreptitiously glanced around the bar as she listened to Jace and Cailyn. Her heart sank when she saw Ronan waylaid by Claire, wearing a skin-tight, red dress with come-fuck-me heels. She couldn’t be more desperate, Pema thought disdainfully, ignoring the hypocrisy of her own six inch stilettos.
Had he gone to her when he left Pema and rekindled their relationship? The thought made Pema flare her fingers, wanting to scratch her eyes out. She had broken things off with Ronan, yet now she was rubbing against him like a dog in heat.
Unable to tear her focus from Ronan, Pema ate him up with her eyes. Damn, he looked good in his low-ride, dark, denim jeans. His powerful thighs enhanced the bulge she could see growing in his pants. His tight, powder blue t-shirt molded to his broad shoulders and muscular pecs and set off his curly brown hair and dark, chocolate eyes. He was totally lickable. One curl hung adorably over his left eye and Pema all but drooled on the table in front of her.
Pema had to ignore the fact that Claire was clinging to his arm like fungus. It was either that or give into her violent urges. And didn’t that set off an epic battle in Pema’s mind. She wanted to stake a claim on Ronan so Claire and any other female knew just who he belonged to. Yet, she didn’t want a relationship with him, or anyone else, for that matter. She saw the irony in that, but couldn’t help it.
Part of her, she realized, had already staked a claim on Ronan because when Claire pressed her body along Ronan’s side and reached to pull him down to her waiting lips, Pema bared her teeth and hissed at the sight. She was mortified, she had never hissed at anyone before in her life.
“You okay, sweet cheeks?” Rhys asked, stepping into Pema’s line of vision. She had been so consumed by Ronan and Claire that she hadn’t seen him approach her. Never mind that she had completely checked out of her conversation with Jace and Cailyn.
“I can smell your arousal…and anger,” Rhys purred. “I can help with that.”
Heat flooded her cheeks with embarrassment and Rhys smiled that smile of his that usually had her grabbing at his jeans. Lamentably, her body desired only Ronan at the moment. It had to be because she had denied her body the sexy bear shifter and it wanted that experience. She refused to believe anything else.
“Fucking Rhys,” she smiled up at him and winked, allowing him to wrap her in his arms. She knew she was being petulant by hoping to gain Ronan’s attention with the cambion’s embrace. It was nearly too much for her when Rhys grabbed her ass and pulled her against his groin. She became dizzy as her chest constricted painfully. She immediately became alarmed at the chest pain, wondering what had caused it. She prayed it was indigestion because the alternative didn’t warrant consideration.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Ronan had stepped away from Claire and was staring at her. Pema’s flash of satisfaction quickly died when Ronan’s eyes turned to coal with his anger. Killian would fire him if he started a fight, especially when it was his job to stop such altercations. And she worried for his safety if he fought Rhys. Not that Ronan was weak, but Rhys was a powerful Dark Warrior. She wasn’t sure which of them would win a fight, but didn’t want to find out.
When Ronan started forward, only to be pulled back by Claire, Pema’s good sense flew out the window. Her muscles tensed and she was about to leap when Rhys stopped her dead in her tracks.
Ronan’s nostrils flared and she had no doubt he could smell her arousal. The petty side of her was glad, because maybe seeing her with another male tortured him as much as the sight of him with Claire tortured her. Satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as she thought it would be when she saw hurt cross his expression. Claire’s satisfied smirk and possessive hold on Ronan had Pema’s anger boiling right back to the surface. In an instant, Pema was poised and ready to attack.
“Stop, sweet cheeks. You don’t want to do what you’re thinking,” Rhys whispered against her ear. How he had known, she wasn’t certain, but he was right, attacking Claire would be a mistake. Pema closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The witch wasn’t worth the effort.
Pema opened her eyes and enjoyed it far too much when Ronan walked away, leaving Claire alone at the bar. She dropped her head onto Rhys’ shoulder as relief swamped her. She needed a drink, or ten, if she was going to make it through the night. “You’re right, thank you, Rhys. I really need a vodka tonic.”
“I got it, sweetness, something to occupy your mind and numb your body.” Rhys teased as he sauntered up to the bar to order drinks.
CHAPTER SIX
“I see the Dark Warriors are slumming with the Rowans,” Claire told Rhys when he walked up to the bar. Pema clenched her jaw as she overheard Claire’s haughty voice. It was like fingernails on a chalkboard and made her skin crawl. Ronan was only a recent addition to a long-standing list of reasons she hated the female. Pema didn’t catch Rhys’ response to Claire because she was busy fantasizing of ways to maim and kill Claire.
The sight of Ronan approaching a table where the patrons were involved in a heated argument distracted her. The way he wrapped his thickly muscled arm around one male’s neck effectively delivered his threat and the table immediately settled. He prowled throughout the club keeping the patrons in check with his presence, and Pema enjoyed the view of his backside.
The sound of ice tinkling in a glass interrupted her ogling. A drink appeared in front of her, but it didn’t look like what she had ordered. “That’s not a vodka tonic, Rhys.” She raised an eyebrow in question to the sexy warrior.
Rhys chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. “No, it’s not. I ordered you a screaming orgasm…a prelude of what’s to come.” The warrior waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
She laughed at him and shook her head. Over the noise in the club, Pema was able to hear Ronan’s deep timbre as he spoke to various patrons. That voice did things to her that she both hated and loved, arousing her to an unbearable level. She needed that drink, now. “You know I’m not that easy,” she replied to Rhys and downed the concoction in one swallow. “About that vodka tonic…”
“Anything the lady wants, but, I can help ease that tension much better than alcohol,” Rhys said and pulled a glass from behind his back, handing it to her. Pema would have replied if she wasn’t too busy covertly watching Ronan.
She wanted to go to Ronan and take him back to one of the rooms and finish what they had started. Pema stepped back into Rhys, fighting with all her might against her desires for Ronan. As if sensing her dilemma, Isis closed ranks on her other side and grabbed her hand, silently giving her support.
She and Isis both gritted their teeth as she watched Claire approach Ronan and engage in a conversation. She wanted to hear what they were saying and it was killing her that she couldn’t. Why was he nodding to Claire? What was he telling her? Had
they gotten back together? Insecurities and doubt, emotions Pema wasn’t familiar with, swamped her as she wondered what he was thinking.
“Did you hear what I said, Pema?” Jace queried, looking at her with amusement.
As Pema turned her attention back to the table, she cursed herself for once again ignoring what was going on around her. She wished she wasn’t so preoccupied. What made it worse was that if her body had its way, her world would narrow down to Ronan. She needed to pull her head out of her ass, like yesterday. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted tonight. What were you saying?”
“I was explaining why Rhys can’t go home with you and your sisters,” Jace said with a laugh, enfolding his mate in his arms. The sight of them made her chest ache. She wondered what was happening to her. She didn’t get gooey-eyed or mushy over couples and hardly recognized herself.
“We can’t afford to lose him at the compound for the next month. With Kadir upping his game, we need all the Dark Warriors right now,” Jace continued.
Pema and her sisters had remained on the outskirts of the battle between the Dark Warriors and the archdemons and their skirm. But, they hadn’t agreed with Cele’s declaration that it wasn’t the witches’ problem. Pema felt the witches could make a difference in winning the war if they joined their powers to the Dark Alliance council and added witches to the Dark Warrior ranks.
Before she lost focus again, she responded to Jace. “I imagine that with you and Zander now mated, life at the compound is different. Nightly patrols are likely at the bottom of the list of things you’d rather be doing. Is Thane going to be relocated here?” Pema asked as she saw Cailyn’s friend, Jessie, leaving the dance floor with the San Francisco Dark Warrior.
“I’m not sure, but I think Jessie would like that,” Cailyn laughed.
Pema smiled at that. Yes, she believed Jessie would. “Hey, Dhampir, how’s it going? Eat any people recently?” Pema asked Jessie.
“Hey, witch,” Jessie said, giving her a high-five. “I’m good, and no, I haven’t eaten any people. I prefer Dark Warriors,” she said and snapped her teeth at Thane, who swatted her behind playfully.
“I can see that. Me, I’m learning I have a sudden urge for shifters,” Pema retorted. Someone bumped into her shoulder, causing her to teeter on her heels. She regained her balance and looked to the side to see that it had been Claire. Petty, Pema thought, as the jostled glasses clinked on the table.
“Excuse you,” Pema said through gritted teeth. When Claire ignored her, she called out loudly, “Enjoy your evening!”
Claire changed direction and sauntered up to Ronan where he stood by the front door. “Take a break and let’s go to one of Kill’s back rooms,” Claire said loud enough for Pema to hear. Isis grabbed Pema’s hand and took her attention from the couple. She downed her drink, grimacing at the bitter after-taste, wondering what Rhys had ordered her this time.
“Come on, let’s dance,” Pema said, grabbing Rhys’ hand and tugging Isis with them.
“Alright, sweet cheeks. Or we could skip the dance,” Rhys wheedled.
“We’re going to dance, Romeo,” she insisted.
“I’m going to change your mind, Pema,” Rhys tried again. She swatted his arm and smiled at her sister, grateful to have her at her side. The bond she shared with both her sisters was a lifeline that she prayed would pull her through whatever had possessed her at the moment.
Forgetting her troubles for the time being, Pema grabbed Isis and began an erotic dance with the two of them caging Rhys. The bass and beat vibrated through her and thumped in her veins. Typically, she lost herself in the rhythm of music, but she was continuously looking over to see if Ronan was watching. She noticed he was and that his eyes blazed with a range of emotions she couldn’t identify.
The connection she felt to Ronan throbbed with their shared desire. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and that made the prospect of being with him that much more dangerous. Pema threw herself into the dance as a distraction from her urge to fuck him senseless.
Without warning, Pema began to sweat and her heart started racing. She slowed her movements, trying to calm down. Fatigue slammed into her and she could barely stay upright. It frightened her when her arms turned to lead and her vision went fuzzy. Being a supernatural, she wasn’t prone to illness so she had no idea what was wrong. She swayed under the onslaught.
Suddenly, she doubled over as pain ravaged her stomach and she lost her breath. This was no illness. Something teased the edges of her mind, something about her drink. Forming a coherent thought was currently beyond her ability. Her sister and Rhys had both stopped dancing and their blurred faces were in her line of vision.
She heard her sister speaking to her but was unable to respond through the dizziness. She was going down. How embarrassing for everyone to see this, especially Ronan. She needed to tell them something…but what…the bitter aftertaste! Strong arms caught her as the cement floor rushed to greet her.
She gazed up into Rhys’ kaleidoscope eyes. “What is it, Pema? You don’t look so good. Do you know what’s wrong?”
“Drink…” she struggled to talk, and coughed, tasting blood. “Poison…” she mumbled, barely audible due to the swelling in her throat. She shut her eyes and focused on trying to take a breath. She needed to slow the progress of whatever was pumping through her system. Her attempt to mutter a stasis spell came out jumbled.
The world swam when she opened her eyes. Everything was blurry and her stomach revolted. Rhys picked her up and was hurrying off the dance floor, shouting, “Jace, something is wrong with Pema! Get your ass over here! She mentioned something about poison!”
“Set her down on the table,” Jace’s voice sounded closer than she expected. It was comforting to hear how calm and collected he was. She knew she was in bad shape and was grateful that the healer was at the club. If anyone could fix her, it was Jace.
“Pema, can you hear me? It’s Jace.” She tried to open her mouth and talk, but nothing worked. She nodded her head or thought she did, it was difficult to tell. “I’m going to put my hands on your stomach. You will feel warmth as I heal you. Stay with me, I need you to talk to me, tell me why you think it was poison. What did you taste? Rhys, grab an unopened bottle of water. Kill, grab a cold cloth.” Jace talked to her and issued orders without missing a beat and she felt hands land on her bare abdomen.
A wonderful, warming sensation began in her belly and spread out from there. Her heart stuttered then stopped, before it continued racing. The swelling was thankfully going down in her throat and she sucked in a breath. “Drink…tasted bitter,” she whispered.
“We can smell it now. Don’t worry, just drink this,” Jace instructed as he helped her sit up slightly with a hand behind her shoulders.
“Pema!” Ronan roared from somewhere across the room. She cracked her eyes open and saw Ronan rush towards her with panic in his eyes. Behind him, she saw Claire being drug from the bar. Was that Cele taking Claire away? Yes, Pema would know that tight bun and stiff spine anywhere. She had no doubt that they were responsible. Glass shattered on the tables around her, causing people to shriek. Through her haze she saw that Isis was pissed. For once, she hoped Isis unleashed hell on the High Priestess and her daughter.
*****
Ronan pushed his way to Pema’s side. He had no idea what had happened, only that Pema was injured. The triumphant gleam in Claire’s eyes as her mother pulled her from the club told him that Claire was responsible. He cursed himself for being so preoccupied with his turbulent emotions.
No matter how much he had wanted to repair his relationship with Claire, he hadn’t been able to shake his desire for Pema. The moment he saw Pema walk in the club, his jaw had dropped open. She looked sexy as hell and every male eye in the place had been on her. Claire couldn’t have been more obvious with her jealousy of Pema.
As he ate up the distance, rage made him see red that Claire had harmed an innocent. He had spent two centuries with her and would ne
ver have guessed that she was capable of such treachery. His anger quickly turned inwards that on his first night on the job, he’d failed. He was responsible for the safety of patrons in the club. Yet, Pema had been injured under his watch.
When he crouched next to Pema and grabbed her limp hand, the scent of poison hit him with her every exhalation. “I’m so sorry that this happened. I failed you. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again.” Pema didn’t respond, only closed her eyes as Jace continued his work.
Losing Pema was unacceptable. He had no idea how or why or when this female had gotten so deep under his skin, but she had. The thought scared the shit out of him. The fact that Claire had done this was even scarier. He’d never forget the triumphant expression on her face as she left the club. It was the most chilling sight he’d ever seen.
Thoughts of Claire had him leashing his bear as anger at her actions tore through him. Up until this point, if anyone had asked him, he’d have told them Claire wasn’t capable of harming a fly. His stomach flipped as his world was thrown in a blender on high speed.
He may have wanted to win Claire back, but the truth was, this act was unforgivable and he would never be able to look at her the same again. In that one second, Ronan questioned everything he had ever known or believed.
He bent to kiss Pema’s forehead. “You’re going to be the death of me. What am I going to do with you?” he murmured in her ear.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ronan gazed into pained sea-green eyes and his heart broke for what the female was suffering. The death of his family destroyed any softer emotion he’d ever felt, but this witch brought out a side of him he hadn’t believed possible. Sure, he had loved Claire, but this was something altogether different. It was tender, passionate, full of heat, and raw lust. It left him breathless and exhilarated, and he wasn’t exactly comfortable with it. He had no frame of reference or any idea how to deal with what was rolling through him.