Dylan's Witch: 10 (Supernatural Bonds)

by Jory Strong

  Jesus. He needed it.

  He took her slowly. Reveled in her open pleasure, in each moan, each scrape of her fingernails against his skin.

  He swallowed her cry of orgasm. Came in a rush of ecstasy and found it nearly impossible to first leave her body and then leave her home.

  But she was right. The necklace she wore was a second chain around his neck, the charm on it completely silenced the whispers and screams as well as dampened the hum he now knew meant the blade had been empowered with a kill.

  * * * * *

  The college he’d first attended was a couple of cities away but it might as well have been across the country. He hadn’t returned since transferring out junior year.

  He parked across the street from the occult bookshop. It looked inviting, cozy, safe, a place for coeds to explore their newfound independence.

  The witch was inside. He could see her behind the counter.

  She still wore her hair up, pulled back from her face so as not to detract from her eyes and lips. He wasn’t close enough to get a good look at them, and even without Seraphine in his life, he didn’t want to remember how it’d felt to have them on him.

  Jacqueline had aged. Magic, if she had any real ability there, might have slowed it, but it hadn’t stopped it.

  Attractive? Yeah. Enough so he’d notice her if he walked into a bar. But raging lust? Not now.

  She came around the counter just as a girl stepped into sight. His heart gave an involuntary lurch at seeing the brunette. It took a moment to realize he wasn’t looking at Heather.

  A blink cleared his head. Observation skills kicked in.

  Definitely a coed. Probably a freshman, the same as Heather had been.

  The girl stopped in front of the witch, head ducking, the shy mannerism a kick in his gut because it reminded him of those early dates with Heather. The witch reached out, pushed strands of brown hair backward as she said something that had the coed lifting her face, lips parting in anticipation of the kiss that came.

  His dick twitched. But fuck, he was a red-blooded guy looking at woman-on-woman action, a seduction that had him jerking forward with realization rather than to get a better view.

  Had the witch wanted Heather back then? Obviously she went for a type. Had seducing him been a setup?

  Not that it minimized his guilt. Except—

  His heart sped up. Hope slid in, thin and sharp like a narrow blade.

  What if Seraphine was right? What if the underlying belief he might be like his old man had provided an opening for magical compulsion?

  He didn’t like to think he’d be susceptible to it. But…he’d been so sure back then that he understood the way the world worked.

  He scrambled to think of someone who’d been a mutual friend, someone who’d know whether or not Heather eventually hooked up with the witch. A name popped. Crystal Coxx, a girl who’d thought she wanted to be a witch too. She was from Miami and anxious to put distance between herself and her family until going back after graduation to work for the import-export business they owned.

  The kissing on the other side of the glass window heated up. The witch’s hands stroked, soothed, seduced the coed as Dylan used various resources to track down Crystal.

  “You’re a voice from the past,” she said when he finally managed it, her cool tones saying she’d prefer he’d stayed that way.

  “I’m a cop now.”

  “So I gather. You’ve shown up on the news a few times over the last couple of months. In fact, didn’t you shoot someone today?”

  “I did.”

  She let the silence drag, probably hoping he’d fill it.

  He didn’t.

  “Let me guess, you’re looking for someone who can give you the scoop when it comes to black magic.”

  He grimaced. Felt a twinge of sympathy for the captain at what the headlines must be screaming.

  “You still involved in that stuff?” He prayed she wasn’t so he wouldn’t have to chew up time working her to the real point of the call.

  “No.”

  Hallelujah. “What about Heather?”

  The silence that followed was icy cold. “I’m surprised you can even say her name. You really screwed her over. You know that?”

  “Yeah. I know. If I could change the past I would. If apologizing would make a difference I’d do that too.”

  Crystal huffed. Let him hang for several heartbeats before saying, “I actually believe you regret being a cheating slimeball back then. So I’ll tell you she ended up okay. She lives in Texas now with a great guy. They’ve got twin boys. Do her a favor and don’t step back into her life.”

  It lightened his heart to hear it. “I won’t, not intentionally. That’s a promise. Thanks for telling me she’s good. I’m glad.”

  More silence, this time considering instead of hostile. Crystal broke it on a sigh. “I don’t know if Heather is still interested in the witchcraft. Maybe not. You transferred out and when we got back from break, she’d decided she was lesbian. I guess she had something to prove. She ended up sleeping with Jacqueline until sophomore year. Then she caught the witch with a freshman. Guess maybe that’s Jacqueline’s thing, fresh meat, a new conquest at the start of every term.”

  Dylan watched the witch’s hand cup the side of the coed’s breast, her thumb teasing over a nipple. “Good call there. Thanks again.”

  He hung up without mentioning his mother’s death. It’d been an excuse to transfer schools, not the cause of it.

  Deciding to wait a few minutes more before interrupting the seduction, he called Seraphine, just to hear her voice. “You’re still at home, right?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Anything for Trace?”

  “Not yet. My summons hasn’t been answered. Arioc’s arrival isn’t always immediate.”

  Something in her voice told him it usually was, and she found the deviation troubling.

  Not going there. Not asking about Arioc.

  Yet. Because the truth was, he was starting to see himself asking those kinds of questions.

  She spared him by saying, “I thought you’d have found the witch by now.”

  “Oh, I’ve found her. I’m watching her with a female coed right now.”

  Seraphine’s laugh made him smile. “Don’t get any ideas about seeing female-female action here unless it’s on the TV.”

  “You saying you’d watch porn with me?”

  “You saying we’re going to need it to inspire us?”

  He shifted in his seat, his cock hardening, letting him know contact of any form with Seraphine was all the inspiration it needed. “That’d be a negative.”

  The kiss and fondling ended. “Looks like it’s time for me to spring into action.”

  “My superhero.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Hold that thought. And do me a favor. Call my phone in a few minutes. Tell me there’s been a break in the case and I need to get back to the station.”

  “Okay.”

  The coed and witch approached the door together. Jacqueline pulled the girl to her for a final kiss before opening it.

  The girl left. But instead of retreating into the shop, the witch remained in the doorway, her attention moving from the departing coed to his parked car.

  Interesting. Had the show been for him?

  His hand lifted involuntarily toward Seraphine’s charm. He stopped it, diverted it to the door handle.

  He got out of the car and approached the shop.

  Jacqueline remained framed in the doorway like a voluptuous spider spinning her webs to trap the unwary.

  He thought of himself back then. Cocky. Sure of his own appeal to the ladies. Hell, he’d lost his virginity before he even hit his teens, and to an older girl.

  He suppressed a smile at that conceit of ego. Andrea was all of seven months ahead of him in reaching thirteen.

  “This is a surprise,” Jacqueline said when he reached her. And he silently into
ned, Step into my parlor, little boy.

  He entered the shop. She looked him up and down, gaze lingering on his cock, tongue darting out to lick her lips as though she were traveling down memory lane—if not to remember what it felt like having him fuck her, then to relive the thrill of having made a conquest.

  Her eyes lifted, narrowed when she met his stare. He saw the instant when she realized he wasn’t interested and, because of it, he became a challenge.

  “It wasn’t a lie,” she said, reaching out, fingers trailing the length of his upper arm. “I enjoy both sexes, equally.”

  Truth? He found he didn’t care. What he wanted was to get this over with and get back to Seraphine.

  “I’m here on police business.”

  “There’s no reason questioning me can’t be very pleasurable for both of us. I assume you’re interested in knowing about Lucifer’s Blade and sacrificial ceremonies. A few of the news reporters are still salivating at having found such a juicy story. I don’t practice that type of magic, but I’ll share what I do know with you.”

  She moved in, invading his personal space.

  It was all he could do not to retreat.

  Relief surged through him when his phone rang. “I have to get this,” he said, using the call as an excuse to turn away from her and step to the side.

  Seraphine delivered her lines in complete seriousness.

  “I’m on my way,” he said.

  He pocketed the phone. “Looks like I don’t need that information from you. I’ll just hit the bathroom and head out.”

  “Of course.”

  He made his escape, going through the motions, flushing, washing his hands. Stalling in front of the mirror above the sink. Chickenshit.

  The face looking back at him acknowledged it with a grimace. Fuck. He did not want to take Seraphine’s charm off.

  Get it done. Get out of here.

  He forced himself to remove it, sweat coating his skin when he dropped it into his pocket. Muted whispers filled his head, underlain with screams and raw terror, the original charm losing the battle and threating to take his sanity with it as a hum vibrated through his body as if it’d tear him apart.

  Bearable. It’s bearable. I can handle this.

  At least until he got to his car.

  He forced himself away from the mirror, realizing as he did that Jacqueline was telling the truth about not practicing the kind of magic that emanated from the dark realms. Either that or her wards weren’t powerful enough to hold, considering how insulated Seraphine’s house was.

  He left the bathroom and found Jacqueline waiting for him. Her scent hit him first, like the promise of sex, and his already hardened cock began pulsing, throbbing to get inside her.

  Her lips curved upward and his gaze locked on them. They were lush, red. Delicious sin and he wanted to take a bite.

  He remembered what they’d felt like against his skin. What she’d felt like, long legs wrapped around his waist. Pussy hot and wet and eager. He wanted—

  A hard lurch of his heart brought Seraphine’s image. The intensity of his desire for her cleared his head. Not that he was willing to take any chances.

  He slammed his hand into his pocket, gripped the charm like it was lifeline and salvation both. “Nice try,” he said.

  Jacqueline stiffened as though a hot poker had been shoved up her ass. It didn’t nearly compensate for the rage that flooded him at finding out Seraphine had been right.

  Probably the only thing preventing him from venting his fury was knowing that ultimately the pain had kept him free until he met Seraphine, and in the end Heather had found happiness too with a husband and twin boys.

  He settled for saying, “I’m surprised you’re not worried about bad karma returning threefold.” And nearly laughed out loud at hearing himself utter the words. Where the fuck had that come from?

  Jesus, what next? Hanging out with demon lords?

  He left the shop, lighthearted. Unburdened. Pussy-whipped, given the intensity of the urge to call Seraphine and tell her she was right, something no self-respecting man would volunteer except under duress, as in, to avoid a trip to the dog house.

  He did laugh then, in the safety of the car and driving away from a past that no longer had any power over him. He’d check in with the other homicide cops, see if there was anything new, then he’d call Seraphine and let her know he was coming home.

  His phone rang as he scrolling to hit Trace’s number. Mettes.

  “Freeman?” he asked, heart galloping.

  “Came out of the coma like all he’d been doing was sleeping. Doctors want to hold him another twenty-four hours for observation before kicking him free. Tell Seraphine I owe her.”

  Dylan laughed. “You can repay her by stopping by Inner Magick and introducing yourself to Trace’s wife, Aislinn.”

  “Seraphine wants me dead? It’s not exactly a secret how your partner feels about his wife.”

  “She wants Aislinn to have a shot at fixing you up with someone.”

  Mettes laughed. “Maybe I’ll just let her. Seriously though, tell Seraphine she saved a life.”

  “Will do.” Warmth spread through him as he hit Trace’s number.

  “Seraphine’s got something?” Trace asked by way of greeting.

  “If she hasn’t called you, then she doesn’t. I’m on my way back to her place now. Last I talked to her she was trying to make contact with her information source.”

  Talk about a fucking euphemism.

  “Shit, Dylan. We need a break. Lindley and Cunningham are completely off the grid. No sign of them anywhere. We’re checking property records now. But considering Lindley has represented some pure scum and gotten them clear of a jail rap, there could be dozens of off-the-books places where they could be. We’re running out of time. Storm asked Tristan. He said there’s no magical hour when it comes to performing sacrificial ceremonies using the blade.”

  Dylan felt a surge of panic. It was accompanied by the phantom thunder of a heartbeat in his head and the slow fade of it at his wrists.

  He hit the gas, using the flashers without the sirens to tell the other drivers to get the hell out of the way. “I’ll call her now.”

  * * * * *

  Seraphine heard her cell phone chime through the open doorway but didn’t leave to answer it. Blood dripped from her fingers, yet another offering of it, only this time relief came as Arioc stepped into existence.

  He prowled forward, gaze going unerringly to the missing charm, his expression unreadable. “I believe I know who is in possession of the blade,” she said. “If I give you the names, can you find them?”

  “Eventually. But would I find them in time? That’s the far better question.”

  Behind her the phone rang again, this time with Electra’s tone. It brought instant fear.

  Intellectually she knew her sister and niece should be safe with a dragon guarding them, but she turned and hurried to the phone. “Electra?”

  “We’re okay,” her sister said. “I just wanted to let you know we’re okay.”

  Her heart thundered. “What happened?”

  She was barely aware of the momentum that carried her to the front door. She would have been through it if Arioc hadn’t appeared, a solid mass of masculine beauty blocking the exit, the demon lord’s presence interrupting knee-jerk reaction.

  “There was a man waiting in the house. We just went out for ice cream, because Zephyr said he’d never had Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. When we got back he told us to stay in the car. To give him a minute then call the police.” Fear shivered through Electra’s voice. “There was duct tape. My panty hose was tied to the headboard. If Zephyr hadn’t been with us…”

  Horror and a desire for vengeance swelled inside Seraphine. The temptation to use a harmful spell was strong, almost more than she could resist. She wet her lips as if lubricating them so the request could pass over them. With Arioc lending his power, his knowledge…

  Thoughts of Dy
lan withered the desire. Because what debt she took on would impact him. Thoughts of Chesna and needing to serve as role model for her niece allowed it a full death.

  “I’m coming over.” She needed to see for herself that they were okay, needed to hug them both. “The police know who has the blade. They’re searching for her. This will be over soon.”

  She prayed it was the truth.

  She hung up. But rather than insisting Arioc move, she went to the window, noting the cars on the street. Most belonged to her neighbors, but others…

  Some seemed familiar, some didn’t. And none of it meant that someone with a gun wasn’t waiting for her to emerge.

  Arioc chuckled. “I believe I can easily protect you from any human threat. In fact, I would enjoy it despite the complete lack of challenge it presents. And because I would, I offer it as a gift.”

  “Then I’ll accept it as such, as gift, with no obligation accrued between us.”

  “So formal. So cautious.” His eyelids lowered, he reached out, captured a lock of her hair. “Human love is such a curious thing. What sacrifices will you ultimately have to make because of it, I wonder? Shall we go?”

  She rubbed her phone against her leg, a nervous gesture. A guilty one. She’d told Dylan she wouldn’t leave the house. But what greater protection could she have than a demon lord?

  They’d zip over and come back. She’d be safe.

  Seraphine checked the missed call and saw it had been from him. She’d return it in the car, if he didn’t call her back first.

  She opened the door and stepped outside, passing through the wards she rarely noticed anymore. She shivered, feeling exposed.

  The night seemed darker, more sinister. Chill bumps crawled up her arms, pebbling her skin.

  Halfway to the car she stepped into icy cold and felt the immediate flare of demon magic all around her, encircling her, trapping her in a circle not so different than the ones she created. Fear raced through her.

  Too late she understood Arioc had deflected her attention away from the possibility of this threat with his offer to protect her from a human one.

  Two beings shimmered into existence inside the circle. For an instant she thought she caught a glimmer of their true appearance, but when they took physical form they looked like men.