“No,” Camille replied coolly. “I’ve finished.” She went to her desk and perched on the side, watching Amollia advance.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Grace said.
“Yeah.” Camille kept her gaze on Amollia. There was something strong about her energy, something between harmonious and off-key. People like that were often not dangerous unless they couldn’t get their way. Sometimes they were chameleons, dark witches hiding under the cloak of goodness. Which one she was remained to be seen.
“I was wondering if you gotten my grandmother’s invitation to our Autumnal celebration this weekend. She likes to take an entire weekend which means you’ll be our guest from Thursday evening to Sunday afternoon.”
“The headmistress passed the word on.” Camille crossed her arms over her chest preparing to take issue with the other woman then reminded herself she could lose her job if she wasn’t careful.
“Did she also tell you, that a social life would greatly divert the board’s attention from the possibility of you being a lesbian child predator?”
She rolled her eyes. “As opposed to a straight one?”
Amollia laughed and her aura fairly sparkled with humor. The woman was a rarity. People didn’t often laugh with their whole being.
“Personally, I don’t give a dump truck in Spain if you are gay,” Amollia told her with a shrug. “I’m not here to spy on you. I’m here because my grandmother sent me. You’re a witch and we want you in our coven. It’s small, only twelve, and my grandmother would love someone like you to join us.”
“Like me?”
“I can see the aura, and I see that you have a brilliant light that leans towards airy energy. We only have two air witches, which creates an energetic imbalance. I’m fond of fire myself.”
“You’re an elemental coven?”
Amollia smiled. “Yes. Didn’t Tylor tell you? We wanted her for the same reason, but she keeps refusing.”
“I’m not the person for you,” Camille told her. “I have a stronger affinity for water.”
“Perfect. A combination is always refreshing. I’m looking forward to talking to you this weekend. Oh, grandmother insists that you join us at the club tomorrow.”
“I’m already going,” Camille answered, the words tumbling out before she could censor them, and Amollia’s eyes lit with curiosity.
“Good. I’m glad. The entire board will be there and to see you have a preference for adults will put our minds at ease.”
“Right.”
Amollia laughed and the warmth of it was filled with true humor that puzzled her.
“What’s humorous?”
“You. See you tomorrow.” She turned and headed for the door.
****
Grace sighed as Amollia kept going. That meant the powerful witch hadn’t picked up the slight spike in energy she’d used to hide herself. She waited until Amollia had rounded the corner before becoming visible again and hurrying to her classroom. Listening outside the door had allowed her to get a bead on where Camille would be tomorrow night at least.
Selene should be able to make the grab there even though with so many powerful witches on hand, Selene would have to plan in advance to get Camille without attracting attention and then get her off the grounds.
Then there was Camille’s date. She had no idea who that might be though Amollia was amused by the whole idea for some reason. Didn’t matter though. She’d distract him if she had to.
The last thing she wanted was to see Camille hurt, but it was her life or Camille’s, and she chose to live.
Chapter Fifteen
Tylor finished going over the file Aria had sent her as she lounged in her home office. She didn’t care for the fact that the information on Dark Hollow’s leadership was sparse. No one had a face to put with any names except employees of a law firm.
One of those names stood out most. Voltaire, the owner of the Whiteall Law firm. The firm was a respected one and information on its owner painted the picture of a philanthropist, a man of integrity with a winning record.
Voltaire would be the perfect kind of man to infiltrate the good witches’ world and pass himself off as one of them. No one could see past the good deeds or the fact he was a brilliant lawyer.
The file said he was a dark breed along with his pal Patrick. Patrick was another brilliant lawyer, and he was dating a high priestess of a powerful coven and member of the local Congress. Well, she had been selected to serve on the Dual Congress recently.
She had a daughter who was a demi-aurai.
She picked up her cell phone and punched in Aria’s number.
“Hello?”
“Aria, I’ve just been going over the file. Juno, the Dark Crystal hitter is dead.”
“One less person to investigate.”
“Have you positively cleared Voltaire as being connected with the attempt to kill aurai-marked?”
“There’s been no way to cross him or Patrick off the list. I’ve met Patrick, and he’s all goodness and friendliness, but there is something about him that I don’t like.”
“Trying too hard to be congenial? Everybody’s pal?”
“In a way, yeah, but there’s no proof he’s anything but a guy consumed by his work. The tails on him and Voltaire have turned up nothing. I mean Voltaire does have a wife he goes home to.”
“Have you checked her out?” Tylor asked curiously. Maybe she was the connection to the dark covens they were looking for. She and Aria both were certain there was a connection between Whiteall Coven and the dark covens Dark Crystal and Dark Hollow.
“She’s clean. A human. The more power, the more status the better, but she is cheating on him.”
“Hmm, I wonder why? Those dark breeds have the kind of sex appeal that can blind a woman to every other man.”
“He’s not using it on her,” Aria commented dryly. “So, the search for the mysterious V goes on, though I did pick up a name—Voltam. Jasmine hasn’t found anything on him except he’s a demon.”
“I know him. We fought and I nearly killed him, but the coward retreated.”
“How long ago was that?” Aria asked.
“Twenty years ago,” she murmured. “He was attempting to feed off an aurai-marked. He beat her so bad she did end up dying.”
“What kind of demon?”
“No designation just an upper level demon, red form with no markings except for the ones I gave him. He’s close to Kryto. If he’s above ground, he’s going to be looking for an aurai-marked.”
“I guess your girl is it,” Aria said.
“I’ll look forward to killing him this time,” she said coldly. “But maybe he’s after your woman, so watch her back.”
“Always. Juliet doesn’t trust Patrick. Her mother is dating him. She thinks he might be in league with Dark Hollow or Dark Crystal.”
“Do you trust her instincts?” No doubt Aria trusted her woman. She trusted Cam and they were barely lovers.
“Yeah.”
“Then stay on this, but handle him with care, he might turn out to be a demon in human clothes,” Tylor said. “I have to get out of here. I have a date. Keep me updated.”
“Will do.”
Aria had been smart to align herself with others while she had remained isolated, thinking it would be better if she had no ties. There were no liabilities for anyone to use against her until now.
Tylor leaned back in her chair. She needed to become part of Aria’s coven or a few choice witches who wouldn’t attempt to push their own agenda.
Amara would always do that, and her family’s interests would always come above anyone else. On top of that, Amara was ruthless to the point she would knife her in the back if she wasn’t careful.
Aria would never betray her. She was a witch and aurai Tylor wouldn’t mind at her back anytime. So maybe it was time they put their differences aside. After all, it had been centuries since Aria had killed her brother.
****
Camille slipped
into another shirt and smoothed the sleeveless mauve shell before shrugging into the matching sweater with pearl buttons and an intricate flower design around the neckline.
She released her hair from its knot and dragged a brush through it before smoothing gloss onto her lips. Then, Camille sprayed on a refresher of her favorite perfume and smiled at the sound of her doorbell ringing.
She grabbed her shoulder bag from the bed, relishing an evening out. It had been a long time since she’d spent time out with a lover especially a true magical. It was nice not to have to pretend she was just human.
Camille pulled the door open to Tylor and smiled. “Hi.” She stepped outside and locked the door before facing Tylor again.
“I guess that means you’re ready,” Tylor commented. “I almost have to wonder what you’re trying to hide in there.”
Camille laughed. “Are you jealous?” she teased leaning against the door. It was too soon for real jealousy, but it was nice to think this might get that far.
“Hmm, let’s see.” Tylor leaned toward her and ran her hand down Camille’s side. “A little bit.”
Camille chuckled. “Well, there’s no one inside. I’m just eager to spend the evening with you.” She rested her hand on Tylor’s hip as she gazed into her eyes. The weight of her stare was like a caress so sensual Camille caught her breath.
“That makes two of us.”
“Being close to you always makes me crazy and I don’t understand why,” Camille murmured. “Isn’t air supposed to make you detached?”
Tylor moved closer, resting her hand on the door next to Camille’s head. “Not if you have a lot of water or fire in your air. Fire makes you more passionate and water makes you more sensual.”
“What does being storm make you?”
“With all the fire from lightning I could easily be a powder keg of passion and emotion.”
She glided her hand up Tylor’s side to her back. “Are you?”
“You tell me,” Tylor murmured. “How did I seem last night and the night before?”
Camille gave her a slow smile. “Hot for me.”
Tylor laughed and stepped back from her. She caught Camille’s hand and pulled her into her body. “Is that all?”
Camille searched her gaze. A soft breeze blew around them but Tylor’s stare was clear as a cloudless sky yet electricity crackled around them.
Her heart beat faster and her breath came in shallow pants.
“You might leave me singed,” she whispered. “You’re like a magnetic pull I can’t escape.”
“You’re not there alone,” she murmured and then led Camille to her car where she unlocked the door on the passenger side for her and opened it.
“Aren’t I?” Camille looked up at her, breath stalled, hope a windstorm in her stomach.
“If you aren’t getting that feeling by now, you should stop being mad about something that was never intended to hurt you,” Tylor told her. “I’ve wanted to get to know you since I saw your picture, but you made it clear your career came first, and I love my job. I figured if I didn’t make a move on you, this attraction would fade. Instead it’s turned into a wildfire I don’t have any idea how to put out.”
“Do you want to?” She put a hand on Tylor’s arm the urge to touch her almost a magnetic force she couldn’t deny.
“No!” Tylor whispered.
“I’m glad,” Camille murmured. “I don’t think I’d know how to stop wanting you.”
Chapter Sixteen
The Belle was a series of stores with a circular formation that all led to the food court. This afternoon, the mall wasn’t crowded, but the food court was enjoying its share of patrons as usual.
Camille glanced over her shoulder feeling as if they were being watched, but she saw no one paying any attention to them. But a glance at Tylor told her she wasn’t alone in the thought.
“You feel it, too?” Camille asked.
“I thought someone was watching us, but I don’t expect a dark breed to be careless enough to be seen though. Do you want to go home?”
“No, I want to get a dress and something new for this weekend.” If she was going to come out, it should be in style. “Plus, I’m not going to let whoever it is spoil this evening with you for me.”
“Then, let’s try The Mirror first,” Tylor suggested. “They were supposed to be getting some new dresses in.”
“Okay,” Camille said brushing Tylor’s hand. She gave Tylor a brief look and linked her fingers with her.
Camille couldn’t stop herself. Everything inside her screamed this was so right and not touching Tylor would be wrong. She’d never felt quite like this about any woman and the unknown and heady feelings threatened to consume her.
“That’s a nice dress.” She veered left, attracted by a dress in a shop window.
They went into the store and Camille tried on a couple of dresses before deciding she didn’t really like either. They moved on, stopping in another store where Camille bought a scarf.
They finally made it to The Mirror after an hour. Camille looked at a few dresses and selected a few to try on.
“So, what do you think?” Camille stepped out of the small cubicle in the softly lit dressing area, socked feet on the red carpet.
“It’s okay,” Tylor replied from her perch on a cushioned bench.
Camille frowned. “Not floating your boat, huh? Okay, fine.” She headed back in to try on the other dress. “Tylor?”
“Hmm?”
“Can you get me a smaller size in the second dress?”
“Be right back,” she said and headed out to get the dress. “Here you go.” She returned and Camille opened the door.
“Thanks.” She took the dress and noticed Tylor had brought a second dress along with a pair of pants that would go perfect with her new scarf. She pulled the dress on and studied herself in the mirror. “Tylor, can you zip me up?”
Tylor appeared at the door, opening it and moving inside. Camille met her gaze in the mirror.
“The dress is interesting. It’s a replica of a Georgian style dress. So simple yet so perfect.”
“And it looks great on you,” Tylor murmured zipping the dress up before kissing the nape of her neck. “I love your perfume.” She lightly bit the tender flesh, and Camille moaned, surprised that she was aroused by something she’d always considered barbaric.
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly and thoughts of their night in the Sandy Bar and Grill’s bathroom darted into her mind.
“I like this one,” Tylor told her.
The color was a beautiful fire opal orange with hints of plum in the sheer panel at the sides of the dress and the train in back which was just long enough to add interest to the dress without being cumbersome while dancing.
The square neckline would make it possible for her to wear one simple piece of jewelry.
“Stockings and a garter belt would make this dress even more perfect,” Camille murmured and caught the darkening of Tylor’s eyes. “Black?”
Tylor groaned and kissed the side of Camille’s neck as she cupped her breasts. “Are you trying to drive me insane?” she demanded harshly.
“I was just trying to set the scene for you.”
“You’re a tease,” Tylor murmured and Camille arched into her. Tylor pushed her hands beneath the skirt of the dress. “Black stockings are my favorite on a woman.”
She moaned as soft fingers caressed her inner thighs. “Good to know.” Tylor’s hand brushed over the seat of her panties, and she creamed. “I should probably try on the pants. This dress seems to fit nicely.”
“Very.” The heel of her hand pressed against Camille’s clit, and she gasped.
“Tylor.” She twisted around to face her and Tylor put her back against the wall. Their mouths met in a soft kiss that quickly became greedy. Camille gripped Tylor’s sides, hands fisting in her shirt.
Tylor kissed the side of her neck and Camille panted as her hands fell to Tylor’s ass. She cupped her th
rough her pants and squeezed as she moved against her, desperate for a harder friction.
Her juices flowed from her, dampening her panties, and her clit became hard and engorged as the arousal built inside her.
“Tylor,” she said in a breathless plea. “Please.”
“Please, what?” Tylor asked huskily as she looked down into her eyes.
Tylor’s stare was stormy, gray clouds alight with silver streaks.
“Goddess.” The sight was gorgeous and incredible. She took Tylor’s hand and guided it down between her legs. “Touch me.”
“Touch you or take you?”
“Both.”
Tylor pushed her hand down Camille’s panties and glided her finger down the damp slit. “So wet with your sweet juices,” she murmured and dipped her fingertip into the heated well of her pussy and brought it out again raising her hand to her lips. She sucked the warm cream away. “Mmm.”
“Ty,” she panted.
“Hold the dress up, Cam,” she ordered and when Camille gathered the dress in front so her stomach was bared, Tylor followed the line of her navel, stroking her slowly and building the heat inside her.
Her hand disappeared inside Camille’s panties and played down the slit once again. She pushed her finger inside.
“Baby, you’re so hot,” Tylor said. “Do you want me?”
“Yes,” she got out breathlessly when the digit slid deeper into her. “Ty!”
With her free hand, Camille caressed Tylor’s ass. A breath of air escaped her, cool and moist, and Camille closed her eyes as two fingers penetrated her and Tylor thrust them in, crooked them to brush her sweet spot and drew them out.
“Look at me,” Tylor ordered. “Be here with me.”
Camille caressed Tylor’s arm. “I’m right here,” she assured her. “Wanting you, savoring the feel of your fingers inside me.”
Tylor pressed the heel of her hand to Camille’s clit and worked the nubbin in time with her thrusts. “I love the look in your eyes.”
“How do my eyes look?”
“Like a windstorm,” she said and kissed her.
Camille sighed and ground against Tylor’s hand as she fucked her just like she wanted—with strokes just hard enough to make her scream. She drew her nails up and down Tylor’s arms as she fucked into her faster, hitting her sweet spot with unerring efficiency.
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