by Leeah Taylor
“Yeah.” He held to the desk, raking a hand down his face to try and dispel some of the haze. It did nothing for the fog clouding his mind. “I’m… coming.”
The room tilted no matter what he held onto as he staggered to the front door in the dark, holding to the knob to stay upright. He opened it, blinking away the blur to make out the person standing in front of him. Dark hair and pouty lips were all he could make out in the dim moonlight.
“What you are doing… here…” He squinted and shook his head, trying to make sense of his own words. “Luv?”
A slow, seductive smile stretched across merlot painted lips. “I wanted to see you.”
His dick twitched. Apparently, so do I. Do I? Probably bad idea. Fuck it.
“Oh.” He threw his arm up. “Now you want see me.” He moved out of the way and gestured into the darkness of the house. “Then by all means, Luv, come in.”
She stepped over the threshold past him. A cinnamon spice mixed with something he couldn’t discern followed her in, and he got harder. He staggered back into the study and over to the bar.
I need another drink.
“What you want?” he asked.
He grabbed for another bottle of cheaper whiskey from the bar and went to the couch. Dropping down to the cushion, he paused to watch her in the darkness. Her figure moved closer, looking too delicious for her own good. I want her so bad. He uncapped the bottle and took a long drink from it. The burn an afterthought.
“I miss you, Damien.” She dropped to her knees between his legs.
He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head fall back. “Don’t, Luv.”
The warmth of her fingers grazed just above the button of his jeans forcing a low rumble to vibrate in his chest. He grabbed her hands just as she undid the button, and he searched in the darkness for the galaxy that consumed him. He couldn’t find it. The room was too dark.
Damien shook his head, the fog growing thicker in his mind. “Is…It’s… not okay.”
“Shhh.” She pulled the zipper down, slipped her hand into his jeans and around his erection, earning her another deep rumble in his chest. “I want you.”
“Fuck.” He abandoned any sense trying to fight for space in his thoughts when the warmth of her mouth slid down his dick.
Stop her! Stop her now! He shoved every pleading thought out of his mind the deeper she took him. Falling into the euphoria of her lips wrapped around him. Working him over in all the ways he’d imagined. Getting lost in every lick and nip. Drinking deeper from the bottle to keep any sense at bay as his pleasure built the harder she gripped.
She shouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t let her. It felt wrong.
Fuck but she feels so good.
Another growl rumbled, and he stopped her. “Luv, no…just…” He swallowed passed the dry lump in his throat. “Stop.”
She pressed a hand into his chest. “It’s fine.”
Damien shook his head, his mind heavy with the thick fog overshadowing any sense. He pulled her up into his lap and slipped his hands over her cheeks.
“I don’t you want… shit…” He touched his forehead to hers. If he knew she was going to show up like this, he would have stayed sober for her. “Don’t want you like me like this.”
Fuck it!
He claimed her lips like he’d wanted to for decades. Memorizing the curve and contour of her lips when they parted and invited him in. Tasting spicy and sweet.
“So sorry, Luv.” He lingered against her lips. “I didn’t keep good your grimoire safe.”
“I know, Damien,” she whispered. “But at least Ann Marie’s is safe.”
“Yep.” He nodded, and the room spun hard forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. “Safest place in city.”
She pecked him on the lips. “Show me.”
Damien slid her off his lap and stood with a sway. He tucked his dick into his jeans, hating himself for stopping her, and zipped them up. “Upstairs.”
He took her by the hand and led her up the stairs. Doing his best to keep from following the tilt of the entire house. Grateful when he reached the top step still upright. He tugged her toward his bedroom with an odd feeling edging into his stomach when he opened the door.
Never two bottles again. Ever. Wait, no. Three? Fuck.
He didn’t bother turning on the light. He knew where to go.
“Kept here.” He went over to the floor to ceiling bookshelves beside his bed. I really want her in my bed. “Safe and sound.”
Damien took a stack of books off the shelf and set them aside to get to the safe behind them. He fumbled with the buttons on the keypad with his uncoordinated fingers. After two failed attempts, cursing, he punched in the right code, her birthday, and opened it. The old thick leather-bound grimoire inside. He took it out and turned to her sitting on the edge of the bed.
“I never should kept it from you,” he admitted, handing it to her.
She took it. “Thank you, Damien.”
He fell into the bed, sinking into its inviting plush warmth. “Anything for you, Luv,” he mumbled. Eyes growing heavy with the sleep, he needed to rid him of the fog. “I love you.”
Say them back, Luv.
The bed shifted beside him, and he felt a softness press against his cheek. “I know you do.”
The dark and alcohol claimed him, and he sank deeper into the bed. The click of his door was the last thing he heard before succumbing to the fog and haze to escape her memory.
Juliette | 11
The bed was comfortable enough to lull anyone into dreamland, but it felt hard as stone. Juliette tossed and turned with one thing dominating her thoughts. Damien Frost. I should have got in my car and driven away from him, not toward him. The purring, like a motorboat, practically shaking the walls didn’t help. Riley could wake the dead with her sleepy purring, though she vehemently denied it. Juliette cursed herself for forgetting the ear plugs.
The door to the loft creaked open, and she froze, holding her breath. I’m not ready for Damien this morning.
“Rise and shine ladies,” Ollie chimed.
She pushed up in the bed and fumbled around for her phone in the covers. The screen lit up, and she sighed.
“It’s six in the morning, Oliver.”
“Um, that is Ollie to you.” He set down three coffees and a light pink box on the counter. “Now get your ass down here.”
Juliette jumped from the bed, sprinted down the steps, and into his arms. Her feet left the ground, and he held her. Like he was trying, already, to put her back together. She pried herself out of his grip and pushed her fingers through his brown hair that was styled in an absolute mess only he could make look sexy.
“It’s getting long,” she giggled.
He swatted her hand away. “Stop it, no, it isn’t. I just had it cut.”
The couch purred, and Ollie peeked over the side.
He arched a brow, a grin working its way up on his lips. “That’s a thing?”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “It’s a very annoying thing.”
Riley turned over and sighed. “What’s a thing?”
“You’re purring,” Ollie said.
Eyes closed, her brow still pulled together. “I do not purr.”
Ollie sat on one of the stools at the kitchen counter, a playful smirk plastered on his lips, and handed Juliette one of the coffees.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but you do purr. I find it rather sexy.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Juliette, and she tried to bite back the giggle.
“Is this from Shirley’s?” Juliette took a drink of coffee, moaning as the taste of home both coated and scalded her tongue.
Ollie nodded. “Only the best of Sterling for my favorite girl.”
Riley bolted up, eyes wide and face flushed. “Oliver?”
He rested his chin against the palm of his hand with an amusing charming smile. “Good morning.”
“Oh, Jules, I hate you.” She ripped the blankets
off and stalked towards the bathroom in the back of the loft.
“Really, really hate you.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Juliette laughed. “Wake you up?”
Riley came out of the bathroom, silk brown curls piled on top of her head, red in the cheeks, with a toothbrush shoved in her mouth and glaring.
“Yes!”
She disappeared again, and the door slammed behind her.
“She’s cute.” Ollie opened the pastry box and pushed it towards Juliette.
“She can hear you.”
“Oh, I know.”
Juliette picked out a chocolate glazed doughnut.
“You are a godsend,” she said, biting into it. “So, I saw Drew last night. You two back together?”
Ollie winced. “God, no.”
“Then why does he still work there?”
He half-shrugged, picking through the pastries. “It’s business, and he’s a damn good bartender. Plus, I get to randomly drop the ‘he’s a full-blown cheater’ bomb whenever he meets someone new.”
Juliette choked on her coffee. “Oliver Frost!”
“Ten years, Jules, and he made me a fool.” Juliette looked away. “What happened between you and Damien doesn’t count. You have to actually be in a relationship before it’s cheating. Damien obviously missed that memo.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I was some celibate little schoolgirl virgin either.”
Lucien was just crossing a sacred line.
A grin stretched across Ollie’s face. ‘No, ma’am, you certainly were not.”
Heat crept up into her cheeks. “Don’t you start.”
“We had a lot of indiscriminate sex with a lot of random people together. Not going to let you forget it either.”
Her cheeks flushed hot. “Remember the rules?”
They had to agree on the couple. No touching or kissing each other because that was too weird but not weird enough to do it in the same room in front of each other. Never in the bed together. Their rules kept them in sight of each other, just in case things went sideways, but the thrill of the voyeurism was a bonus.
“Good enough to take you two ladies out on the town tonight?” He smiled wide, but Juliette shook her head. “I tried.”
Riley cleared her throat, and they both turned to her. She looked between them with her mouth hanging open.
She crossed her arms. “Have you guys...”
Juliette and Ollie broke into hysterics, laughing until they were red in the face and tears rolled down their cheeks.
Juliette held to her stomach as more tears streamed down her face. “With other people together but not with each other ever. That would be weird.”
“Way too weird,” Ollie agreed, wiping his cheeks.
Riley stared at them like they had four heads.
“Yeah,” she mocked them, “that would be weird.”
“But I can tell you that he’s quite—"
Ollie jumped up from the stool and covered her mouth. “Jules...”
He failed to keep a straight face with the lighthearted warning. She batted her eyes up at him, and he slowly pulled his hand away.
“I was just going to say attractive, geez.” She glanced at him from the corner of her eye as he settled back in his seat. “And has this really cute birthmark right next to his—"
Ollie shot up, covering her mouth, cheeks flushed. He smiled and shook his head. “I mean it.”
“Love you,” she mumbled against his hand.
He pulled his hand away slowly. “Behave.”
“Always.” She waited until he sat down again. “And a tattoo on his left ass cheek.”
He hung his head. “Just couldn’t help yourself?”
“I mean, it’s a cute ass.”
“Stop it,” he chuckled.
“We could circle back to the birthmark?”
Ollie shook his head. “You’re horrible.”
Juliette laughed. “But you love me.”
Riley giggled, leaning back against the couch with her arms crossed. “Wow, you totally did not tell me you two were this close.”
It came naturally.
“She’s my Doll, what can I say?” Ollie smirked but turned serious. “Now, I hate to ruin our beautiful banter, but we need to talk barrier spell.”
He went over to the door to pick up a backpack and brought it to the counter, emptying it.
“I went early this morning to the five points. Grabbed your charged copper bowl and a map of Sterling.”
“Ollie, it is early,” Juliette said.
He dismissed it. “Okay, I haven’t been to bed. I finished up at Juleps and went home but couldn’t sleep. So, I went and got the ingredients and came here.”
“And here I thought you came with only the best of Sterling to try and convince me to stay.”
His stare softened. “I’ve missed you, Doll, don’t doubt that for a minute, but all things considered...”
She covered his hand. “I know. The barrier needs to be restored.”
“But, if you decide you want to stay, I’ll fight Damien for ya.”
“I’d pay just to see that, but no, I can’t stay.”
The pain of her words was etched across his face. “You won’t even think about it?”
“Ollie, where would I stay?”
“Here.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay here. Look at this place. It’s a shrine to the past.”
Resigned, Ollie looked around the loft. “About five years ago, Damien became obsessed with this place. Spent a lot of time and a lot of money to make sure things were done to some imaginary blueprints.”
Juliette looked over at Riley. She’d met Riley five years ago and spelled a new cloaking stone. Disappearing altogether. So, he was keeping tabs on me. But why? What would he have done if he hadn’t had this loft to put his energy into?
“They weren’t imaginary.”
“How so?” Ollie asked.
“The plans were mine. Everything you see in this room down to the hardwood floors were my plans for this space.”
“Hmm, guess he always did struggle to express his feelings.”
Juliette half-smiled. “No, this is actually the closest he’s ever gotten to I love you.”
“Well, duh, the man clearly still loves you.” Riley grabbed the third cup of coffee. “But you didn’t need a decorated loft to tell you that. Don’t even try to deny that.”
“I know that, but I also know I deserve more than a shrine built for me,” Juliette said.
She rounded the counter into the kitchen, dragging a stool with her, and pulled the charged copper bowl in front of her. Reaching for the bag of earth, Juliette emptied it into the bowl.
“Don’t you have to do the spell in that place?” Riley snapped her fingers, trying to remember. “The witches’ holy place?”
“Val Valena and yes, but I have to prep it first.” Juliette slid a blade down the middle of her palm, hissing with the sting as blood poured down into the bowl. “That’s going to take a few hours which means this would be a great opportunity for Ollie to show you around Sterling.”
“No can do, Doll.”
Juliette rolled her eyes. “Damien?”
“No, actually, Lucien.”
Why am I not surprised?
“You have that look, Jules, where you’re imagining the worst in people,” Ollie said.
She jerked back. “I don’t have a look.”
“You do, actually.” Riley barely looked up as she picked through the offering of pastries. “You get this blank ‘if looks could kill’ expression in your eyes. Do it all the time.”
“Lucien just doesn’t want you to go off on your own to do the spell. And neither do I. You need someone there with you. It’s a powerful spell.”
She shooed them away. “Fine, but go away. I can’t do this with you two watching me.”
All her attention and focus needed to be on charging the spell. She closed her eyes and dug her finger
s into the bloody earth in the bowl, ignoring the sting in her palm.
Witches were born with magic in their blood. Taught to manipulate the magic around them. With spells and incantations. Even without words if the witch was strong enough, but it’d be exhaustive. Very few witches had the strength to manipulate magic with just a gesture or thought.
Juliette was only that powerful after the failed spell that turned her into the vampire witch hybrid.
The mixture working between her fingers came to life with a pulse of power all its own. Heating under her touch as she imbued it with the magic in her blood. The first warning squeezed in her chest, and her heart sped up.
Her magic linked to her life essence. A botched flaw of the spell her mother, Ann Marie, used. Because being the wolf witch hybrid wasn’t bad enough.
Juliette forced her focus back to her hands, cut open across the palm, and worked them into the muddy glop in the bowl. Her fingertips tingled with an electric hum, permeating and charging the mixture as it grew hotter. Heat flushed through her veins. Magic boiled hot just under the surface of her skin. Exhaustion edged into her mind already draining the strength she needed to restore the barrier.
“Jules.” Ollie snapped his fingers in front of her.
She ignored him as her hands worked rhythmically into the bowl, getting lost in it. A strong grip on her arm shook her back into reality, and she stared blankly over at him.
“What?” she snapped.
“You’ve been at it for over an hour. It’s charged, Doll.” He gestured to her face. “Besides, you need to feed. You’re far too pale.”
“It’s really been that long?”
It had barely felt like five minutes.
His brow pulled together. “Are you sure you can do the spell?”
“Yes.” She started to stand, and the room spun.
Ok, maybe.
Ollie rounded the counter and caught her by the waist. “You’re not feeding.”
“Yes, she is. She goes out two or three times a week after our shift to feed.” Riley crossed her arms. “At least that’s what she told me she was doing.”