by Pat Esden
“Great minds think alike?” he said, giving the nursing kitten a meaningful glance.
Her heart clenched, and heat flushed her from head to toe. Big guy. Little kitten. It was like a scene out of a hot-guy charity calendar. No way could she pretend it didn’t turn her on—doubly so, since he’d been the object of her fantasies for years.
She glanced away from him to the kittens’ box. “It was partly that I couldn’t sleep. Have they all eaten?”
“This is the last one.” He picked up a towel from beside him and wiped stray milk from the kitten’s mouth, then got up and set it in the box with the others.
He sat back down, studying her. “What’s bothering you? Bad dreams?”
She hooked her hair behind her ears and shrugged. “You could say that. I think Saille was trying to tell me something else.”
He gestured at the floor. “Have a seat. I’m all ears.”
“Ah—” The floor was sparking clean, the bath mat immaculate. She’d cleaned them herself. Still, a bathroom felt like a strange place to discuss anything, weirder yet at three in the morning. But somehow it also felt perfect, bright and warm with the inviting sense of him all around her. Just the two of them, without anything or anyone to remind them of the coven or Council.
Gar moved down from the edge of the bathtub, situating himself with his butt on the floor and his back against the tub, knees bent. “Are you going to stand there all night?”
Em settled cross-legged in front of him. Tingles rushed across her skin when she realized just how close they were, his feet within touching distance of hers.
His naked feet. Perfect toes and arches. Clean. Strong. Leading to muscular ankles, and a glimpse of dark silky leg hair.
Her fingers itched to touch his toes, to caress his instep and kiss her way up his calves. Her thighs muscled tingled and her stomach tensed, a surge of embarrassment jumbling with desire. Could he sense what she was feeling?
She untangled her legs and repositioned herself with her stockinged feet tucked under the corner of the bath mat. Out of sight. Out of mind.
“So?” Gar prompted. “Your dream. Was it about Saille?”
The tension eased from her stomach. “Not at first, but yes. It started with Alice.” Em bit her bottom lip. Gar couldn’t have forgotten that she and Alice were lovers. But he’d said that he’d lost track of her after she got on the train. “Alice was haunted by a baby she’d lost.” Her voice cracked. “Alice died from an overdose.”
Gar shifted closer, resting a hand on her knee. His touch was gentle, but strong. “I’m sorry. That must have been incredibly hard for you. Was that what the dream was about?”
“That and Saille…” Em told him the dream in detail, careful to not miss anything. When she was done, she met his eyes.
He fired a question, hard and fast. “What are you thinking right now? The first thing that comes to your mind. Don’t think about it.”
“Where is Saille buried?” she said without hesitation.
Gar frowned. “Are you asking me or answering my question? I was looking for your intuitive answer.”
“That was it. Where is Saille buried?” Now that she thought about it, that question had been in her mind when she first jolted awake.
His expression grew more serious. “I had the same thought while I was listening to you. It makes sense. Graveyards. Bodies rising from the dirt. Poisons. Murder.”
Em felt her eyes widen as she caught his train of thought. “You think Saille’s saying she wants someone to exhume her, to test her body for poisons?”
He nodded. “The High Council’s skills in that area have improved greatly in the last few years. Someone could have screwed up her original autopsy.”
“You think the Council would really do another examination if the Circle requested it? We aren’t exactly on their favorites list.”
“Technically, they couldn’t refuse.” He studied his lap for a second, his mouth working like he was deciding whether to speak his mind or not. He raised his head, brow furrowed. “Devlin claims Rhianna admitted to being involved in Saille’s death. But he has no proof of her claim. Rhianna was a young teenager back then, hardly experienced enough to pull off murdering a seasoned witch. Again, it comes down to his word against Rhianna’s—just like with Athena’s disappearance.”
Em swallowed hard. She could read between the lines. He was trying to be nice for her sake. Clearly, though, he believed the coven didn’t have a leg to stand on. “But you still think the Council would be willing to have Saille exhumed?”
“Yes—and nothing would make me happier than to have her murderer brought to justice. But there are normal-world laws about exhuming bodies. Non-witch judges and lawyers could get involved…. Exhumation isn’t a fast process.”
Excitement rushed through Em. She leaned forward, resting her hand on his knee. “Then we have only one choice. We’ll cut through the red tape by digging her up ourselves, then take her body directly to the Council for testing.” Now that idea was in her mind, she knew it was the best plan. “There’s another benefit to doing it ourselves. If I can touch Saille’s body, I’d have a direct connection to her spirit. Whatever is holding her back wouldn’t be able to interfere.”
A rebellious glint sparked in Gar’s eyes, and he laughed. “I take back what I said about you being amazing. You’re amazing and crazy.”
She puffed out a breath, trying to curb her eagerness. “I’m not talking about us exhuming her alone. Devlin, Chloe—”
He raised his hand, gesturing for her to stop. “I still intend to finish my investigation of the coven’s latest transgression: interrogations of outlying members, the impact on the local community…. Once I’m done with that, I’ll help exhume Saille. That way, I can present both issues to the Council at once. I have a week to finish up here. That should be plenty of time to do everything.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Em conceded. As much as she suspected Saille wanted them to move faster, taking time to plan carefully and not ending up in jail for grave robbing did seem smarter. Either way, she and Gar were in this together—standing on common ground somewhere between the coven and the Council.
Her gaze found his again. His shoulders tensed, and the room grew breathlessly heavy with the crackle of his energy. Moss and evergreens, the scent of his spirit, seeped into her skin. She inched nearer, but not as close as the butterflies in her stomach begged for her to be.
“Em,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. A warning for her to be sure before she made another move.
She slid her fingertips across his foot, moving toward the temptation of his leg.
He locked a hand around her wrist, stopping her. “You need to understand something. I’m good at my job, Em. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to you—I am, a lot. But if Devlin’s family or the Circle are guilty of anything, I won’t lie to the Council about it. Not for you. Not even for myself.”
She got where he was coming from, and his frank honestly made her want him even more. If Zeus was guilty of poisoning Saille, she had no doubt that Gar would shout it from the rooftops. But as for the Circle’s more recent crimes? Gar’s one-man jury was still out on that. To him, there was a difference between swearing not to lie—and promising to tell the truth.
Now or never, Em’s libido whispered.
She cupped her free hand over top of where he held her wrist. “I don’t expect you to do any less than what you think is right.”
He smiled, lips parting. She tilted her head, moistening her lips as she bent toward him and slid a fingertip along the neckline of his T-shirt.
“This is a bad idea,” he murmured. His voice went husky. “You haven’t been sober that long. Getting involved with me—with anyone, could throw you off track. I don’t want to mess things up for you.”
She pressed a finger to his lip, silencing him. “No A.
A. talk. Just us. Just now. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this attracted to anyone.” Not through all the years of drunken hookups, not since Alice.
He scrunched forward, trapping her between his knees. His hands brushed her shoulders. “There’s a good chance you’re going to hate me before this investigation is over.”
“There’s a good chance you’ll discover Athena and Saille were murdered by Rhianna.” Her breath caught in her throat, anticipating the touch of his lips.
He leaned back, away from her. His voice hushed. “Um—Saille isn’t here, right?”
Em swatted his arm teasingly and laughed. “That would be creepy. But, no, she’s not.”
She gripped the back of his head, pulling his mouth to hers. He didn’t fight her. He took control instead, wasting no time with subtleties as his lips hungrily moved against hers.
“Dear Goddess,” he groaned as his hands impatiently slipped under her hoodie and shirt, gliding over her ribcage to cup her almost nonexistent breasts. “I want you so bad.”
She murmured, “I’ve wanted you for years.”
Her body went liquid, bones turning molten under his touch. He kissed her neck. Her jawline. His magic hummed against her skin. Alice had brought her slowly to climax with gentle kisses and a feather-touch, but this…. Gar’s magic and hunger were ferocious, a torrent, a relentless tide she wanted to get lost in.
She let her head fall back, laughing as he left off kissing, his lips teasing and sucking her nipples, taking her whole breast into his mouth. Clearly, he was a breast man, and that was fine by her. She ran her fingers down his belly, searching for the button on his jeans.
“Maybe we should take this upstairs?” he mumbled.
“In a minute.” She undid his jeans.
He stopped her hand. “Condoms? I wasn’t exactly preplanning.”
She nipped his neck, up close to his ear. “Look in the medicine cabinet.”
Chapter 10
We run naked in the darkness
caressing concrete walls,
hoping to find warmth in callous spaces.
—“Hookups” by E. A.
Memory. On the road. 20 years old.
Em was grateful that Devlin’s apartment was attached to the coven’s garage and that Chandler’s was in her workshop. That left only Brooklyn to hear their rather loud trip up to the third floor. Well, and Midas—who Em suspected was staying overnight with Brooklyn on the second floor.
Gar carried Em the last few yards into his room and tossed her playfully onto the bed. The no-holds-barred glisten in his eyes and the exuberant sizzle of his magic shifted to something deeper and more serious. He retreated to his dresser and turned on soft background music.
“I hope you like country?” His gaze lingered on her, taking in every inch. He wet his lips.
A flush of self-consciousness crept up her chest. “Anything’s fine by me.”
“I’ve got orange juice in the mini-fridge. You want some?”
“That would be great.” As he headed for the fridge, she pulled her knees to her chest. She wanted more of him. Again and again. But the mention of drinks and ebb in the fever pitch of the moment left her painfully aware that not only had she not been with anyone since she got sober, in truth, she couldn’t remember ever having sex with a man when she wasn’t drunk.
He returned with two bottles of juice and set them on the nightstand. He sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled at her. “Em.” Her name rolled off his tongue like he was savoring the feel of it. “I’m going to be honest with you. One of the reasons I haven’t slept much has nothing to do with Saille.” He nodded at the wall behind the headboard. “I keep thinking about you over there, wanting a chance to talk to you.”
She laughed to break the tension and scrunched forward, grabbing his T-shirt and yanking him closer. “How about we talk more later. Now let’s get back to business.”
He untangled her fingers from his shirt and stripped it off slowly. His body was broad and muscular, built up over the years from physical work, tattooed and scarred from unknown exploits. A soft line of black hair shadowed his chest and ran down the ladder of his abdomen, across a slight belly, and vanished into the beltline of his jeans.
A fresh surge of desire pushed aside her self-consciousness. Her mouth watered at the outline of a new erection pushing eagerly against the taut fabric of his jeans.
His hands cupped her face and he looked in her eyes. “You’re not going to make me hurry this.” He stroked her neck. His hand traveled south, skating down her stomach and under the waistband of her leggings. He pressed his fingertips against her clit, massaging slowly. “I’m going to make you suffer, a lot.”
She squirmed, arching into the touch. He slid up next to her, still massaging as his lips found hers, kissing just as slowly. Lips brushing. His breath was fresh and clean, minty even. As his tongue traced the contour of her lips, her body went weak and she closed her eyes.
For a moment his touches stopped. She felt the movement of him wiggling free of his clothes. His hands pulled off her T-shirt. She ran hers over his naked shoulders and down his back, exploring his exquisite body. His erection pressed against her thigh, the tension of his need growing stronger with every deepening kiss and unhurried caress.
She trailed her fingertips downward, slowly, toward his cock. She closed her hand around it, moving her fingers up and down, matching the waltz of his lips against hers.
A growl rumbled from the back of his throat.
“Shush,” she said, nipping his lip. “You’re the one who wanted to take it slow.”
“Screw self-control.”
In one swift motion, he was straddling her, pinning her arms to the bed. His magic rushed over her, bathing her until her skin quivered and buzzed from the sensation. She curled her fingers, aching to drag them through his hair. His scent enclosed her. Her mouth filled with the sharp tang of his magic.
She wriggled underneath him, struggling to free herself from her leggings. He pulled them off for her, kissing her belly before moving lower to cup her buttocks as he deftly removed her panties with one hand.
“Your magic smells like autumn,” he murmured. “Like fire and air. Like everything wonderful.”
He kissed her upper thigh, his tongue and nibbling teeth driving shockwaves of pleasure through her entire being. He rolled his knuckle against her clit, pushing inward, a rhythmic pressure spiked with magic. She rocked against the sensation, arching in pleasure and groaning as the ecstasy surged inside her, building toward climax.
“I want you,” she moaned. “I want to feel you inside me.”
He shifted away from her, the sudden coolness raising goose bumps on her skin as he reached to the nightstand. The rustle of the condom wrapper sent a fresh wave of excitement throbbing between her legs. She did want him. She wanted him so bad.
His warmth returned. His hand parted her thighs. He kissed her stomach. His mouth closed around her breasts, sucking one, then the other, until her nipples ached from pleasure. His lips came back to hers. She closed her eyes, drawing up her magic and letting it flow out of every pore in her body and into his skin. Their breath mingled. Their pulses matched. The head of his cock pushed between her legs, waiting. She writhed against it, moist and eager.
He entered her, a slow thrust, followed by a deeper one. She groaned from the pleasure. He picked up the pace, thrusting harder, faster. Sweat slicked her body. She slid against him, a hot, fast pace. He pressed his face against her neck, growling as he buried himself into her.
“Em,” he moaned. “Em, I can’t wait—”
His body shuddered as he came. But he didn’t pull out. His cock moved slowly, keeping up its rhythm as he moved his fingers against her clit, sending a quick pulse of magic into her. She moaned as the pleasure of his touch took her up and over into her own orgasm.
She collapsed, totally spent. He belly-crawled up next to her and pushed her hair back from her face, kissing her cheek and forehead. She stroked her fingers across his mouth and smiled. “That was incredible.”
“I’m just getting warmed up.” He grinned.
She shoved him away teasingly. “Who says you’re going to get any more?”
A mischievous twinkle brightened his eyes and he lunged playfully at her as if to hold her down again.
She scuttled away, laughing.
“You’re not getting away that easy.” He grabbed her by the ankles and flipped her over—
A fierce memory shot into Em’s mind:
Her aunt held her down by the ankles on a bed with a scrolled headboard. Handcuffs bit into her wrists. Her ankles. Her feet. The vibration of a tattoo gun echoed into her bones. Words driven into her skin: Family is forever.
Em wrestled against Gar’s grip and slammed her foot forward. The kick connected with his face. Blinded by panic, she kicked again as hard as she could. The force sent him scrambling backward as pain shot up her leg.
“Fuck!” Gar clamped a hand over his nose. Blood flowed from between his fingers. “Fuck, fuck.”
Em vaulted from the bed and backed against the wall. Sweat soaked her skin. Her pulse jackhammered in her throat. Her legs, her arms, her whole body quaked. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Tears flooded down her face.
She grabbed her T-shirt from the floor, throwing it on as she fled to the bathroom. She shoved a towel under the faucet and turned on the cold water. She’d broken his nose. And he hadn’t done anything wrong. She shouldn’t have come up here with him. She should have left well enough alone.
Gar stumbled into the bathroom, pinching his nose shut. Blood smeared his hands. It glistened on the dark stubble under his nose and chin. His upper lip was split. He dropped down on the toilet and leaned forward.
Bile crawled up Em’s throat. Her hands trembled as she squeezed out the towel and handed it to him. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”