by Carmen Caine
Walking up to me, he brushed a finger across my forehead, but my attention was riveted on just how close he was standing—so very close. And no matter how deeply I breathed in, I couldn’t catch even the slightest whiff of his delicious scent.
And then it happened.
For the first time in my life, I lost interest in a potentially tasty morsel to become more interested in the man.
He towered over me and out of pure habit, I cataloged his attributes. Muscles. He had a great set. He was incredibly fit. Apparently, weaving spells was an athletic business. His skin was tan. His Adam’s apple was even more distracting closer up. His jawline fell into the same category. And his lips. I was tempted to kiss him, just to see what it would be like to lock lips with a sexy man without thinking of him as a Thanksgiving Turkey.
“Distracted, are we?” he breathed in my ear.
I squarely met his shrewd gaze. I could see mirth in his pale blue eyes. And for a moment, something else. Something sizzling. Something hot.
But then his expression shuttered, and he moved back, folded his arms, and said, “You’re not spelled. Explain.”
Spelled? Not a term I’d heard before. Enchanted? As in magic?
His lashes narrowed as if reading my confusion. He was a wily one. I’d have to be careful if I didn’t want to end up getting short-changed in this negotiation. I adopted a hard, knowing expression, and just shrugged like his question was beneath me.
I’d learned long ago that bluffing was more than half the battle.
Lucian stalked over to the conference table and sat on the edge to casually swing a foot. “Leave us,” he ordered Heath and Tabitha with an imperial wave of his hand.
Heath didn’t seem to mind, but Tabitha certainly did. She flashed her eyes at me with obvious suspicion, and if looks could roast, I’d have been turned into a charred pile of ashes right there. It took her several long moments, but finally, she disappeared through the door.
“Don’t mind her,” Lucian’s deep voice advised from directly behind me.
Only the years of practice living with my mother kept me from jerking in surprise at his sudden breath upon the back of my neck. Apparently, warlocks moved as quickly as vampires. I wondered what else they could do.
Pretending I wasn’t surprised, I coolly spun on my heel.
He didn’t move back. He stayed in my space. And though half of me found him fascinatingly attractive, the other half became annoyed.
The annoyed-half won out.
I glared at him in a way that never failed to send a man scattering out of my way.
But he didn’t move. Instead, the corner of his lip curved into a smile, and folding his arms as if digging in for the long haul, he continued to speak of Tabitha. “Drakes are possessive of those they accept. They aren’t like humans. I’d avoid being alone with her, at least for a while, or maybe even forever if she decides she doesn’t like you.”
I’d never heard of a drake. Part of me wanted to know more, but as a matter of habit, I avoided asking questions if I could help it—it tended to embolden others to ask questions of their own. And anyway, only part of me was curious. The rest of me was irritated with the handsome warlock hovering over me.
I arched my brow higher, adding more frost to my gaze. I wasn’t going to be the first one to step back. Nope. I was going to win even if I had to stand there all night with him just centimeters away. My annoyed-half deliberately ignored the part of me dancing with glee at the thought.
Lucian met my gaze steadily, and from this close, I could get a really good look at his unusual eyes. Light blue irises threaded with glistening silver streaks that radiated outwards from the pupil. I’d never seen glimmering silver in an eye before. Perhaps it was a warlock thing.
After a moment, I began to notice the scorching tension rising between us. And even though I couldn’t smell it, I could sense a charge swirling around me, something that wasn’t me. It was some kind of invisible, crackling energy. It heightened my senses. I wondered if it would zap him if I reached out and ran my finger along his jawline.
At that point, I became aware that he was still talking.
“A Firedrake,” his deep voice droned in the background. “Descendants of the dragons, and more dragon than human. Treat her like a temperamental cobra having a bad day and you’ll do fine.”
His incredibly long lashes swept down over his eyes for a fraction of a second and I realized I hadn’t been breathing. I sucked in a huge breath. Cold air filled my lungs, blowing the fog out of my brain.
It was enough to allow instinct to inform me just what he’d been doing.
In an instant, a knife was in my hand, but he caught my wrist in a vise-like grip before I could press the blade into the flesh of his neck.
“Impressive,” he stated, looking as cool as a cucumber.
“I can’t say the same,” I said with flashing eyes.
I held still, not wanting to test his strength. If he was stronger than me—and I had the sneaking suspicion that he just might be—I certainly didn’t want him to know it.
After a moment, he let my hand go and moved to his desk.
I nodded in satisfaction that he’d been the first one to move away, but the victory was a hollow one. He didn’t seem to care. And anyway, now I was more concerned with the fact that he’d deliberately used his sex appeal as a diversion tactic while trying to cast some kind of spell over me.
He tapped a finger on the top of his desk. “One of the quickest detections I’ve ever seen in a candidate. Your affinity for mana is finely tuned,” he stated with a clinical detachment. “Incredibly so. Are the Damned adept in sensing traps as well? I could use a good Spell-finder. As it happens, I’ve an immediate need for one.”
I didn’t answer him. Spell-finder? Definitely not in the realm of my job experience.
He didn’t notice my lack of response. He just continued. “And you’re obviously handy with a knife, but what of other skills?” His eyes glittered, turning full force on me again. “Your attack on me in the mall—what technique did you employ? I know it was an ability. I’m a warlock, after all.”
Still peeved, I shoved my knife back into my boot. “You’re mistaken. I did nothing,” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d just been going for a snack, and he’d been a bit too tasty to pass up. “The mall was crowded. You’ve obviously confused me with someone else.”
He wasn’t buying it, but it was my turn not to care.
“It’s too late for you now,” he said evenly. “You really have no choice but to accept my protection. I’m your only sanctuary. The Terzi don’t suffer failures.” He opened a desk drawer and began shuffling through it.
I joined him at the desk. This guy clearly had a Terzi hang-up. It was a weak spot I could potentially exploit. I needed to find out more about these Terzi, but something told me it wouldn’t be as easy as an internet search.
Lucian pulled a piece of parchment out of the drawer and waved his hand across it.
As I watched, a beautiful flowing script appeared on the page as if written by an invisible hand. The writing continued line-by-line, and the page was half full before it stopped.
He had to be using mana. But strangely, again, I couldn’t smell it.
Why not?
But I was distracted from a burgeoning panic as Lucian pushed the sheet across the desk with a single finger.
I picked it up almost automatically. The moment my skin made contact, the writing began again. Entranced, I watched as my name appeared in a wobbly script completely at odds with the beautiful writing above it.
I, Cassidy Edwards, agree to a trial period of one mission only with the option of renewal upon completion. All expenses to be paid by Lord Lucian Rowle Industries, Ltd. and remuneration to be delivered to me, Cassidy Edwards, in the form of hitherto unknown information regarding the Chosen One named Emilio Marchesi and also substantial monies to be paid directly into an account accessible only by me, Cassidy Edwards.
>
Upon seeing Emilio’s name appear, I almost dropped the paper. But I didn’t. Perhaps my life wouldn’t have changed so drastically if I had. But call it destiny, foolishness, or both, I read on:
For said mission, I will act as the Lord Lucian Rowle’s exclusive Spell-finder and shall not engage in any other contracts until said mission has been satisfactorily executed. In return, the Lord Lucian Rowle and/or his successor(s) will offer me his/their complete protection and remuneration as described above.
There were several ink spots at the end, as if the invisible fountain pen had malfunctioned, and my name appearing on the bottom right corner was downright crooked. Next to Lucian’s magnificently swirling unintelligible scrawl, my section of the page looked like some child’s first crude attempt at writing cursive.
With a deepening frown, I quickly scanned the upper portion of the page. It was written in such complex language that it was difficult to understand.
The first paragraph stated something along the lines that Lucian would guarantee my safety from magical and bodily harm, and that he’d pay me a handsome fortune for my services.
The second, much larger paragraph was devoted to all the harm I’d suffer if I should betray the contract. I’d scarcely finished skimming over it—the words “entombed in a bottle for all of eternity with a mischievous imp” had snagged my attention—when Lucian’s nimble fingers entered my field of vision and snatched the paper out of my hand.
He eyed the thin, spidery writing in surprise. “One would think this was your first contract,” he said dryly even as his brows ascended, and his gaze focused on the part of the page where Emilio’s name had appeared. “Information,” was all he said, as if to himself.
“This isn’t binding,” I said, feeling quite wary. I felt like I’d just signed a contract with a devil—albeit a handsome one. “I never agreed to any of it.”
He actually froze for a few seconds before looking down at me through half-drawn lashes. “Nonbinding in the world of humans, yes,” he replied evenly. “But in the Charmed world, we both know better … do we not?”
Charmed world? Is that what they called themselves? Charmed? Why Charmed?
He was observing me closely as if documenting my every reaction, and I sensed I was treading on thin ice. But then, that never stopped me before.
“Well, in my world, I discuss the details before signing anything,” I forged ahead.
“Really? You wrote the details yourself on certified meddle-proof parchment,” his voice softened in a chilling sort of way, and his carved lips crooked into a devastatingly striking smile. “If you think to break this agreement between us, then you’re playing a dangerous game with me, Cassidy Edwards.”
“I don’t play games.” Well, those kinds of games, anyway. Letting anger tinge my voice, I added, “Besides, how can I trust you’ll keep your end of the bargain—especially after you entrapped me to begin with?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Why are you wasting time with this? If you truly felt that way, we both know that you wouldn’t have been able to pen your own demands in the contract,” he answered, waving the paper between us before his expression hardened and his eyes sliced through me like daggers. “As for trust,” his voice was growing deeper and louder with each word. “My name alone guarantees my word, you foolish, ignorant woman. Surely, even you have heard of the Rowles of Llewellyn?”
By the time he’d finished the sentence, he was thundering.
Loud voices and angry men didn’t faze me; I wasn’t the kind to get intimidated that easily. And for all his handsomeness, he was irritating me a lot now. I locked gazes with him and said dryly, “The Rowles of Llewellyn Castle? The castle under the protection of the British Government?”
My intention was to let him know that I wasn’t foolish or ignorant. Even though this Charmed world was entirely new to me, I’d done some research before the interview, or as much as I could do, anyway. I couldn’t really demonstrate more knowledge than that, when the internet was virtually silent on the subject.
His response was nothing like I’d expected.
Shocked—he was completely, utterly shocked. Cold fury suffused his face, the kind of fury that can create lifelong enemies and foster feuds that span generations.
White with anger and with his jawline so taut that I wondered if it would snap, he replied in a low, guttural tone, “It won’t be for long.”
Instinctively, I reached for my knives.
He didn’t miss it. Planting his palms flat on the desktop, he informed me in a voice so cold it sent a shiver down my spine, “You’re fortunate we both signed that contract before you dared to utter those words in my presence. Now, get out of my sight.”
A New Job?
So, what was so special about that castle?
Angry myself, I shoved the revolving door of Rowle Industries so forcefully that is was almost enough to shatter the glass.
I wasn’t going back; I didn’t care for the working conditions. A werewolf and a dragon for co-workers. A dangerously unhinged warlock for a boss. Did hostile work environment ring a bell?
And I didn’t care what kind of contract he’d thought I’d signed. I wasn’t going to honor it.
I stomped my way down the sidewalk. I’d splurged on a taxi earlier because I’d foolishly assumed I’d be employed the next day.
Crud. It had been a bad move.
Directing a few choice curse words Lucian’s way, I bent my back to the heat and headed for the bus stop.
I’d just sat down on a graffiti-covered bench when a white lizard zipped out from underneath it. A moment later, Tabitha sat beside me. She wore a simple white dress, and in a fluid motion, placed a well-manicured hand upon my arm in a pleading gesture.
“What did you say to him?” she asked me with an unblinking stare. “I haven’t seen him this angry in years.”
I wasn’t about to engage in friendly chitchat.
And anyway, my bus was approaching.
“I’m not interested in discussing it,” I told her bluntly.
She didn’t stop me—nor did she blink—as I boarded the bus. And by the time I’d found my seat to glance through the fingerprint-smeared window, she’d already gone.
As the bus pulled out onto the street, I inhaled deeply, relishing the various mana scents coalescing around me.
So, it was only Lucian and his crew that I couldn’t smell.
Relieved, I expelled my breath in a long, drawn-out sigh.
I supposed the afternoon hadn’t been a complete waste of time. I’d learned a Charmed world had been hiding right under my nose, a world where I could potentially find allies to aid me on my quest. Chances were that Emilio had made enemies other than myself.
I just had to find them.
Thinking of my revenge was a familiar and safe subject, and I settled into my seat, resolving to think of Lord Lucian Rowle and Rowle Industries, Ltd. no more.
My resolution lasted for about an hour—however long it took me to reach and unlock my front door.
My apartment was one of those small, dingy, one-room affairs. It needed paint and constant ventilation to keep it from smelling of pickles. The sagging blue couch doubled as a bed and served as a table for my duct-taped laptop. Two cardboard boxes housed my clothing—mostly boots. An unplugged college-dorm-sized fridge stood next to the sink with a wobbly-legged folding table propped up against it. The toilet and shower lurked behind a faded yellow plastic shower curtain.
I’d just tossed my keys on top of the fridge when a movement behind the shower curtain caught the corner of my eye.
I whirled, knife in hand, and this time, I really did let the blade fly.
It whizzed in warning, on course for the doorjamb only to stop midair, several inches from its target, and then fall harmlessly to the floor.
I stared in shock.
Had I misjudged the distance? Was that even a viable possibility?
Lucian stepped out from behind the curtain, pushi
ng it aside with a single finger and a slight look of repulsion on his face. Swathed in a long, black cloak, he stood there, wiping his finger on a handkerchief as if he’d been contaminated by some fatal disease by merely touching my shower curtain.
“You’re lucky I didn’t kill you,” I bluffed, struggling to hide my dismay at my failure.
I’d never missed before. Not once. Not even as a child. My knife always found its target, even with my eyes closed.
He arched a pointed look at the blade on the floor between us.
“Please,” he said, rolling his eyes with a slight sniff of disdain. “With my wards activated, you can’t harm me—no matter how hard you try.”
Wards?
Clearly, these Charmed folk had a lot of tricks up their sleeves. They could be a problem. But then, the fact that I had a temperamental warlock standing in my apartment without my permission proved they were already a problem.
I was being pulled into this Charmed world whether I wanted it or not.
“What are you doing here?” I asked bluntly.
The eyes meeting mine were distant as he replied just as bluntly, “Tabitha insists you join us. An emergency mission.”
I was about to inform him that I didn’t work for him when he tossed a manila envelope onto my wobbly-legged table.
“What’s that?” I asked, eyeing it suspiciously.
After his tricky contract, I wasn’t so trusting of what appeared as harmless paper.
A gleam of dry humor entered his eye. “No cause for alarm, Spell-finder,” he said, his deep baritone reverberating in amusement. “It’s only your travel expenses. Passport. Amulet. Key.”
Amulet? Not your typical travel expense, but I didn’t point that out. Making my mind up, I announced brusquely, “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He had to be a bit delusional if he thought I was just going to hop onto a plane and follow his orders for some unspecified emergency mission after that crazy interview.
There was nothing he could say that would make me change my mind.