Grave Promise (How To Be A Necromancer Book 1)

by D. D. Miers

  He leaned against the doorframe, peering down at me with eyes like molten gold.

  “But I will say I am getting mighty fond of you.”

  “Does that mean you’ll reconsider that museum date?” I asked, teasing.

  “I was actually starting to hope we might skip ahead a few dates,” he said, and brushed a strand of my hair back behind my ear, fingers just grazing my cheek.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me,” I agreed, and his touch moved to my chin lifting my face to meet him.

  “Wait.”

  He pulled back, “I’m sorry. Do you want me stop?”

  “Yes—I mean, no.” I ran a hand over his damp chest, “I want you, want this.” I laughed. “I just really need a shower.”

  He smiled down at me. “Of course.”

  I grabbed a towel from the side cabinet and slipped passed him into the bathroom. “To be continued?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I shut the door and leaned back against the frame. My body ached and the pain from the last few days wouldn’t disappear easily. But even now, my heart felt light and airy, as though something exciting was about to begin.

  Steam coated the mirror from Ethan’s recent shower and the scent of soap and clean linen filled the bathroom. If I could, I would’ve bottled it up and made perfume out of it.

  I didn’t take my normally long shower, deciding to rinse and come out in less than ten minutes, anxious to continue where we’d left off. So much of my time lately had been spent absent a bed partner. It would be nice to feel the weight of a man against me again, especially a man like Ethan.

  I tied the band on my lavender, knee-length silk robe and exited the bathroom. When I stepped out, I expected to find Ethan dressed and the mood lifted, but I was pleasantly surprised. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, bare chested, towel around his hips, leaning back onto his arms. A dimple formed in his cheek as I appeared in the doorway.

  “Hello, again,” he said.

  I’m not an easily embarrassed kind of girl, especially with a name like Vexa Tzarnavaras. But facing this man, facing Ethan in nothing more than a towel, I found myself keyed up. The good kind, though.

  He stood from the bed and walked toward me, slow and predatory, the towel on his hips testing fate with every motion. “So.”

  “So?” I tucked the wet strands behind my ear. His bare feet came into view, and the heat of his body radiated against my bare skin.

  He grabbed my chin between his thumb and forefinger, drawing my gaze up to his. “Can I take that raincheck now?”

  I nodded and he immediately lowered his full lips down to mine. It’s amazing how easily the body forgets one sensation and replaces it with another. The painful aching had shifted into another type of aching.

  The kiss started sweet, cautious, the press of his mouth warm and tender, lingering for just a moment. When it broke, he scanned my eyes like he was giving me one last chance to back out. Instead I closed the distance between us again, the kiss more heated now, more insistent. His fingers slid into my hair, pulling me closer against his chest. His skin was hot under my hands, enough to melt any misgivings I might have about jumping into this. Besides being hotter than hell itself, he'd also pretty thoroughly proven that he was someone I was safe around. And even when he was teasing me, I was more comfortable around him than I had been around anyone in a while. I didn't need to hide who and what I was from him.

  My teeth pressed against his lips and his burning tongue swept across mine. His hands found my hips, pulled them hard against his own. The barely-there fabric left little to the imagination. I heard his towel hit the floor, followed seconds later by the press of his erection against my belly. I couldn’t stop the breathy moan that escaped me.

  Too long. It had been much too long.

  He placed kisses along my jaw, his tongue trailing the same path over. “Vexa. Fuck, I want you.”

  My hands automatically lowered down his chest to the V in his abdomen. The sinewy muscles of his sculpted torso were like a perfect mountain range, made to be caressed. Rough fingers slid from my hips and lifted the robe until it wrapped around my lower waist. He grabbed the bottom of my bare ass and squeezed hard.

  “Oh, gods. Yes,” I whispered.

  I wanted him worse than a starving animal wanted food, and pain be damned, I didn’t want to wait any longer. I lowered my hands, letting them trail the farthest part of his belly and along the line of dark hair that lead to his full erection. My fingers gripped the hot, firm flesh in my hand and tugged, drawing out a long, deep moan from Ethan. He backed us up toward the wall beside my bed and hoisted me into the air. Trapped between his insanely hot body and the wall, I wrapped my legs around him. His dick slid against the wetness, coating my core and I almost orgasmed right then.

  “Is this okay?” he said between labored breaths, adjusting himself to enter me.

  “Hell, yes.” I grabbed the back of his neck and slammed his mouth into mine, showing him with my tongue exactly what I wanted. He devoured my lips, teasing me with his hips, slowly rocking forward along my pussy, making me practically cry out but never entering.

  He broke the kiss for me to meet his gaze. “I'll stop as soon as you say the word," he said, close enough that his lips brushed mine, his hands squeezing my hips, the unspoken promise that he would take this as far as I would let him. “We don’t have to go down this road if you’re not ready.”

  “More, Ethan. Please, I need you inside me.”

  “Yes, mam.” He ground his cock hard against my center in sinful thrusts a few more times and then suddenly set me down. “One sec, gorgeous.”

  I almost yelled, "What the hell!" when I realized he had grabbed a condom from the back pocket of his discarded jeans.

  He wiggled the plastic square. "Better safe than sorry.”

  “Good call.”

  He winked and walked back over, condom between his fingers. As he reached me, he untied the belt of my robe, exposing my wholly naked body to him.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  I stuck my tongue out and climbed onto the bed, resting on my elbows. “Shut up, Fabio, and fuck me.”

  He growled and practically leapt forward, but before he could oblige, we were interrupted by the buzzing of my phone.

  “Ignore that,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing more kisses along my collar and breasts. Gods, I wanted his mouth lower.

  “I think I will.”

  Buzz.

  Buzz.

  Buzz.

  The phone went silent, then a few seconds later, the buzzing began again. I cursed quietly, pulling away from Ethan to grab the phone off my nightstand.

  Mr. Gould. Ugh. I did not want to hear from my boss right now. I debated silencing it, but chose to answer, hoping the conversation would be quick and short.

  "Hello?" I said, trying to calm the roaring desire assaulting my every limb.

  I didn’t have much luck.

  "Vexa, it's Mr. Gould. "Are you all right? I heard you were in a car accident."

  "Yeah, I'm fine," I told him. "Just sore mostly." Ethan nipped at my bottom lip, and I had to hold back a moan.

  "Good! I'm glad to hear it. Does that mean you'd be willing to come in today?"

  “Mm?” I could barely form a sentence now as Ethan’s free hand cupped my breast.

  “What’s that, Vexa? I can barely hear you.”

  I bit down on my cheek. "Um, I was actually planning to rest a little longer."

  Silence.

  “Mr. Gould?”

  "I could really, really use your help here today."

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” he said, “very seriously.”

  I recognized the tone. It was the, “Come in today or you might not be working here much longer” tone. I'd gone through a handful of jobs during my turbulent post-high school days when I was just getting a handle on my powers on top of all the stress and confusion of starting an adult life. I was familiar w
ith this tone. Mr. Gould was generally a nice guy, but he was still my boss. I glanced up at Ethan, his gorgeous dark hair hanging partly over his jaw as he hovered above me. He raised an eyebrow and I sighed.

  "I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, resigned.

  I hurried to get dressed, Ethan watching me with what could only be described as sad, puppy eyes.

  "You need more rest," he said. "I could get you an actual doctor's note if you want."

  "I don't think rest is what you have in mind," I said, turning my back on him to swap my T-shirt for a simple tailored black dress, tea-length over dark hose. "Besides, I really need this job. Especially with my powers out of control this way. If I don't have a way to siphon them off, I could become dangerous."

  Ethan sighed but nodded in understanding.

  "Let me get my pants on and I'll give you a ride," he said.

  I made the mistake of kissing him again in gratitude. He grabbed the back of my head, pulling my mouth up to his in a deep, sensual kiss. Our tongues intertwined in a hot passionate dance that made my entire body turn to jello.

  We lost nearly ten minutes before I remembered what I was doing and disentangled myself. I attacked my hair with the straightener, shoved my makeup into my purse, then rushed downstairs. Ethan had done his best to clean up last night, setting the couch upright and putting the kitchen back together. He couldn't do much about the slashed cushions and broken lamps. I appreciated the effort anyway.

  I grabbed the bag of necromancy books on the way to the car.

  "What's that for?" Ethan asked.

  "I figured I'd drop by my aunt's on the way home," I said. "She can probably do more with these than we can."

  "Good idea," he said. "I'll probably wait in the car while you talk to her, though."

  I laughed, shaking my head.

  "Yeah, probably a good idea," I said. "She's a nice lady, honestly. She's probably never met a werewolf before. I'll try to warm her up to the idea."

  "Don't worry about it too much," he said with a dismissive wave. "I'm not really here to change people's minds."

  We climbed into the Jeep and headed for the funeral home, but we hadn't gone far before I noticed a distinctive smell coming from the back. I twisted and was greeted by an eager lick from the undead wolfhound.

  "How did you get back there?" I asked, exasperated. "What happened to guarding the house, Azreal?"

  "Azreal?" Ethan said, raising an eyebrow.

  "I'm trying out different names for him. I haven't settled on anything yet."

  "Well, guarding the house didn't work out so well for Azreal last time," he said. "Maybe he thinks he'll be safer following you around."

  "That's the thing," I said, frowning at the dog in the back seat. "He shouldn't be thinking anything. The level of autonomy he has is . . . weird."

  Ethan shrugged. "How are undead dogs supposed to act?"

  I couldn't really answer.

  We decided since we patched him up, he looked close enough to alive that you couldn't really tell he was dead unless you scrutinized him closely. He would accompany me to work where I could keep an eye on him. Ethan thought he'd probably be called into work soon. He dropped me off in front of the funeral home, and pressing my luck, I leaned in to kiss him goodbye. He smiled against my lips and held me there just a little longer. We separated reluctantly as I slid out of the Jeep.

  "Be safe," he said. "I'll try to be back here around seven. That's when you get off, right?"

  "Oh, we'll see when I get off," I said with a grin. Ethan laughed. "But yeah, around seven usually. I'll text you if anything happens."

  He let the dog out of the back and leaned forward to kiss me one last time, then paused, nose twitching.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. He tilted his head thoughtfully, but whatever scent he tried to catch appeared to have vanished.

  "Nothing," he said after a moment. "Just thought I smelled something for a minute." He frowned, then shook his head. "I know you can take care of yourself," he said, "but stay alert, all right?"

  "I will," I said, both flattered by his confidence in me and by his concern. "You be careful, too."

  I headed inside, the dog padding along beside me. Mr. Gould waited inside before I'd even put my things down. He looked like he'd been pacing in the lobby waiting for me.

  "Is that a dog?" he asked, as I closed the door behind me.

  "My uncle's," I said, quickly making up a lie. "I'm just dog sitting for the day. Don't worry, I know he appears a bit . . . different . . . but he's trained. Very well behaved."

  His uncertain gaze lingered on the makeshift dog skin. “Very unusual. Is he sick?”

  “No, no.” I patted his head to show he wasn’t some diseased mongrel. “He’s a mutt. A mix between two very odd dog breeds.” I nudged my head toward my companion. “This is the result. Not too pretty and he does need a bath.”

  If he had any doubts, he ignored them and moved along. "Whatever. You can put him in one of the storerooms, just don't let him near the deceased," Mr. Gould said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I have a client in the other room I need you to deal with."

  "What's up?" I asked, curious. He didn't usually have me handle the families alone. He also usually called them the families or the bereaved, not clients.

  "It's why I called you in," he confessed, and I realized the starched collar of his somber gray suit was damp with sweat. He was always a pale man, but now his face was positively ashen. "He is . . . extremely unorthodox. And he will only speak with you."

  "What?" I scrunched my nose. Beside me, the dog stared hard at the door to the client meeting room, a quiet growl building.

  "He requested you by name," Mr. Gould said. "He refuses to work with anyone else."

  A cold shiver ran up my back.

  "I'll handle it," I said quietly, my hand gripping the dog's fur for stability. "Can you do me a favor?"

  "A favor?" Mr. Gould repeated.

  "Go down to the prep room and just . . . stay there," I said, my expression grim. Gould regarded me strangely for a moment, then shook his head.

  "Normally I would question that, but . . ." He glanced back at the client room and shivered. "Call for me if you need any help."

  "I will," I lied.

  Mr. Gould headed downstairs to the prep room. I checked the rest of the building quickly to be certain there weren't any other mourners around. I took a deep breath and opened the door, my cell phone in one hand ready to text Ethan if this turned out to be more than just a strange client.

  There was only one person in the client room, and he was not what I expected. He faced the window, broad shoulders in a dark coat silhouetted by the light, but as I closed the door he turned to face me. Beside me, the dog’s ears flattened to its skull, and it growled low and angry.

  He was close to my age, maybe a little younger, with spiky black hair and sharp blue eyes. He looked thin but strong, like he’d been working too hard with too little to eat for most of his life with rangy, corded muscles and harsh cheekbones. A tattoo crawled up his neck and peeked out under the cuffs of his leather jacket, harsh black runic symbols familiar to me. The moment his eyes met mine, I sensed the energy boiling under his skin at just the same frequency as mine.

  He was a necromancer.

  Shit.

  Chapter 11

  “Finally,” the necromancer smirked. “I’ve been here for ages.”

  He reminded me of Spike from Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, and my inner teen was having a giddy field day.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” I joked. “Work wasn’t exactly my priority today. Bigger things to deal with. Like, you know, the mountain lion someone left in my apartment.”

  He scoffed, but I didn’t need him to confirm it was he who was responsible. I sensed it in my bones. The same energy, the same will that had animated the lion was here, standing across the room from me. But he had the candle, so why was he here? Tying up loose ends? But if he planned to kill me, why hadn’t he atta
cked already?

  Focus, Vexa.

  “Yeah, you kicked that thing’s ass,” he said. I couldn’t decide if his stare was defensive or a challenge. “I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so pissed off.”

  “What a coincidence!” I said with a sharp, bitter laugh. “I’m pretty pissed, too. You’re paying for my couch.”

  “Good luck with that,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  His boots were past worn out. And I started to think the distressing on his jeans wasn’t a fashion statement. I remembered the sad little campsite in the abandoned house and a flash of conflicted, uneasy pity hit me. He sensed it or at least my eyes on the duct tape holding together his left shoe, and scowled, drawing himself up taller.

  “You’ve got some power. Even with the candle, I didn’t expect you to wreck my lion so . . . thoroughly. But this doesn’t have to end in a fight.”

  “If you didn’t want to fight me, you probably shouldn’t have tried so hard to kill me,” I pointed out.

  “I knew you could handle the lion,” he shrugged. “Seems like you’ve got experience with undead animals.”

  He gestured to the dog beside me, who continued to growl. The blue necromantic fire in his eyes flared with hate. The dog remembered this guy from the break-in. The necromancer’s lip curled in disgust.

  “All the power of the actual Candle of the Covenant, and you used it to resurrect a dog,” he said, sounding like the thought revolted him. “Was it a beloved childhood pet or what?”

  “No, it’s my neighbor’s actually,” I said, confused by his reaction and fishing for more. “I just needed it to fight off a werewolf.”

  “It’s not even yours?” he shouted, his tone angry. I knew this guy used his powers to resurrect animals, so why was he so scandalized by me bringing back a dog? I could have done that even without the boost the candle had given me. Yeah, the dog was a bit livelier than most animals I’d ever resurrected but come on.

  The guy’s expression was thunderous now. The veneer of superiority he’d been trying to keep up had crumbled. There was something close to hate in his eyes, like I’d hurt him, deeply and personally.