Blooddrinker's Prophecy
Page 18
“Nope. You can’t make me like you, either, only kneel to the power you didn’t earn.” She huffed a sigh. “Life sucks.”
Roz glanced at the closed elevator doors behind the reception desk. “Open those doors.”
“Why?” she sneered. “So you can humiliate my friends and colleagues? No, thanks.”
“I don’t want to humiliate anyone,” Roz swore. “What’s your name?”
“Tonya,” she said reluctantly. “Are we going to be besties now? I’ll warn you, my memory’s not that short.”
“Look, Tonya,” Roz leveled with her. “I want to do the right thing. I want to help people. But the Coven has become something secretive and ugly. They want to wipe out every shapeshifter and infected on the planet so there will be no one left to threaten their superiority. I don’t think that’s fair. All I want to do is bring the Coven back to its humanitarian roots. Wouldn’t you like to see change?”
Grumbling incoherently, Tonya reached for the phone on the desk beside her head and pushed a button. The elevator doors opened. “The six will be on the top floor.”
“Thanks,” Roz said and jogged for the elevator. As the doors closed, Tonya rose and dusted off her slacks, still grumbling.
After pressing the appropriate button, the elevator whisked upward at a high rate of speed. But when it stopped, it glided softly into place. The doors opened onto another foyer and hallways branching out into executive offices. Six of them. But Roz noticed immediately that the conference room in a corner space was occupied by a large group of women. It looked a lot like the Circle of Six and their staff were holding a meeting. Among them, Roz recognized Heather Connelly.
Roz didn’t hesitate. Okay, she hesitated a little on the inside. Facing down a roomful of very powerful, very wealthy, very snooty witches was tough. They were all older than her, making her feel even less sure of herself. For all she knew, they’d toss her right through the floor-to-ceiling windows for even stepping onto the property.
She marched for the glass-walled conference room and flung open the door. Roz let her power loose in ways she’d never done before. She was light, she was fuel, she was pissed.
Like a room full of dominoes, witches dropped to their knees before the word kneel was even out of Roz’s mouth.
“I’m sorry I had to do it this way,” she said, stepping further into the room. “But the Coven has strayed too far from its original vision.”
Only one witch remained standing.
At the far end of the room, gripping the back of a rolling chair, stood Heather Connelly. Her legs quivered wildly, but she kept her footing. She called her power, and Roz panicked.
“You’ve made a huge mistake, little girl,” Heather seethed. “I smell Svetlana all over you.”
“No, you’re the one who made a mistake.”
“Join us,” Heather offered, using both hands to clutch the chair.
“Bitch, my boyfriend’s a shapeshifter and my best friend’s a vampire,” Roz fired back. “Do you really think I’d jump on board your hate train?”
“I’ll teach you how to harness your power.”
“I don’t need your help, thanks,” Roz said. “And just to be clear, I’m the new high priestess in town. The Coven is going back to helping young witches and supporting the Oracle. No more raids, no more blood curses, no more murdering innocent supernaturals. A new day has come.”
“Never gonna happen, girlie. You couldn’t handle this place,” Heather assured. Even her arms wobbled now.
Roz narrowed her eyes and widened her stance. “I said, kneel.”
Heather Connelly collapsed to her knees behind the chair. “You’ll regret this,” she seethed.
“I don’t think so.”
Roz played with the back of a rolling chair, her gaze darting from one angry witch to the next. “Please, stand up. I think I’ve made my point. I just want you all to know, this is a new day in the Coven. You’re all welcome to stay and be a part of my vision, but I understand if you want to leave.” Six angry women rose and straightened their designer outfits. “You’re relieved of your duties here at the Coven tower. I’m closing the doors—temporarily. There won’t be any more attacks on supernatural creatures. We’re going to be a philanthropic and charitable organization again, not a militant one. Now, please stand up. Those leaving, go ahead and pack your stuff. Those staying to help, let’s sit and talk.”
Heather called her power and glared with pure hatred in her stare. “Rozlyn Carrera,” she warned, “who loves Lukas Larsson and is best friends with Connor Beckett, whose mother lives on Sea Breeze Court in Miami, you will regret your hubris today. I may not be able to cast magic on you, but magic is the least of the things I’ll use to make you pay for this.”
“Okay, Heather Connelly,” Roz replied calmly. The woman would have to be an idiot to think Roz hadn’t done her research. “Who lives on Emmerson Drive with her husband Dave and her two kids, Sean and DJ. Their high school is really pretty, by the way.”
Heather’s nostrils flared, but her power faded away.
“I’m not here to hurt or humiliate anyone,” Roz said. “You don’t have any reason to trust me, but the Coven has gotten in my and my team’s way one too many times. I genuinely want to restore it to its original mission statement.” She took a deep breath as her gaze swept the room. “So. Who’s in?”
#
Maks woke late with a headache and his eyes burning like they’d been soaked in acid. With a soft groan, he rolled over and remembered Ali coming in at some point to take Jackson and allow him and Violet to sleep in.
Alina was an angel because, despite the stinging eyes, he felt amazing.
“Is Jackson awake too?” Violet murmured sleepily, rolling into him.
“Ali has him.” He kissed the top of her head. “He’ll be thoroughly spoiled.”
“Mmm, good.”
He stroked her bare back with the backs of his fingers, going over the night before in his mind. Violet’s empathy floored him. How she saw through to the core of him, he had no idea, but it was a warm and pleasing sensation that someone understood him.
“Violet?” he whispered, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I want you to know everything.”
She roused a little more from sleep and curled away a few inches. “What’s this?”
He almost answered, nothing. But if he was going to open his heart to her, he had to not only crack the door. He had to break it down. “I don’t want any more secrets between us.”
Now, he had her full attention.
“Maks,” she said, “you don’t have to.”
“I know.” He could keep his mouth shut the rest of his unnatural life, but he wanted Violet to know him. Even the scary stuff.
“Take your time,” she advised, cupping his face with one hand.
No, much better to just spit it out. Averting his eyes, Maks began, “I was quiet when Oleksander infected me. Quiet through his punishments—the beatings, the little tortures, the blood drinking. He found my silence endlessly amusing. Which, with Olek, meant he’d push me to my limits on a whim.” He shivered a little, just a quiver, but Violet’s hand glided soothingly across his cheek.
“But I was only with him for about two years,” he continued. “I was a plaything of the US army for ten times as long.” He sucked in a breath, shuddering. “They left us alone for a while, probably not sure what to do with us, but eventually testing the limits of our immortality.” God, his mouth was so dry. He swallowed thickly. “For a while, it was drowning.” Maks’ shivering morphed into full-blown shivering.
“Maks, you’re shaking,” Violet exclaimed quietly. “You don’t have to say any more. I get it. I understand.”
No, it wasn’t enough. “Let me finish this one part,” he said. Just one fraction of what he’d been through in prison. He couldn’t control what had happened or the trembling currently shaking his limbs, but he could confess this one story. “They’d been starving me for days to keep me weak, and then they
dragged me out of my cell and locked my hands behind my back.” Maks leaned into Violet’s hand, needing her caring touch when all he could picture was the rough fingers and iron fists of his captors.
“They forced my head into a tub of water until I drowned,” he said, his eyes squeezed shut, “and then resuscitated my body. And they didn’t do it once. Not twice. But over and over. They wanted to know how many times the infection would help restart my heart. Ten times? Twenty? Fifty?”
Violet pressed her mouth softly to his chin, his cheek, his eyelid, and forehead. “You survived. You’re here. And I’ll never let that happen to you again.”
It was absurd. What could a one hundred twenty pound female do against the might of an army? But her words ridiculously made him feel safe. Slowly, his shivering died down.
“Thank you.” He smiled beneath her soft kisses. “And in case I didn’t mention it earlier, I love you too.”
“I know, you beautiful idiot. Of course you do,” she teased with a laugh. “But you’re chilled to the bone. Feel like a shower? I can wash those bad memories off you.” She smiled a radiant smile full of love. “If you want.”
He rolled out of bed without any further prompting, pulling Violet out of bed. He ushered her into the en suite bathroom, sealed them inside the oversized shower stall and then took her face in both his hands. “I love you,” he told her again, liking the feel of it on his tongue. “And I want to be with you. This is me. Telling the truth.”
Her eyes flickered back and forth across his face as her hands covered his.
He leaned in and kissed her, pouring everything he had into the kiss. He focused hard, wanting her to know how special she was, how important she was.
When he finally broke away, Violet looked dazed. She gently touched his face as if she’d never seen him before. Her fingertips brushed his brows, ran down his cheeks, and followed the line of his jaw.
And then she dropped her hands to lift the creamy bar of soap from its ledge. Her fingers were cool and slick as they ran suds up his pecs and down his biceps. Her head bowed, and he inhaled her scent, his cock jumping to life.
Her soapy hands dipped down his thighs and then between them. His abdominal muscles clenched as her warm, tiny fingers wrapped around him and stroked once. He rose on his toes, following her with his hips.
“Does it feel good?” she asked, keeping her fingers loosely around the tip.
“Yes,” he said. It felt good. It felt divine.
“It’s okay to let me know,” she said. Her hand stroked him again. “I want to hear you enjoy it.”
Maks didn’t cry, and part of that included cries of pleasure as well as pain. It was smarter to err on the side of silence.
He reminded himself he was safe here. The bedroom was secure, the suite locked. The entire floor was under Connor’s control. There was no one nearby who could threaten him.
Violet released him only to rinse the soapsuds from his body, and then she dropped to her knees. Her hands ran up and down his thighs, then her nails made furrows in his belly, all the while her gaze remained on his cock, her parted lips centimeters away.
“Ever since you made me come in the Ukraine,” she said, “I’ve wanted to return the favor.”
Her mouth was so close, Maks felt her warm breath on his crown. Though it didn’t seem possible, he hardened even further.
She opened her mouth and exhaled warm air across the tip, and it reverberated through every cell of his body. It took all his strength not to grab her face and thrust between her lips.
“Violet,” he moaned.
Her mouth descended on him, pulling him inside, easing away, and then accepted more of him. As her strokes became more frenzied and the suction greater, Maks did grab her head, his fingers splaying through her wet hair.
He closed his eyes, embracing the warm water on his body, the steam filling his lungs, and Violet’s warm mouth on his flesh.
The sum of each impression buried him, and he groaned aloud.
It felt good.
Violet’s pace increased and her hands palmed his pecs, squeezing hard.
He tried to pull away before he came, but she fought him, grabbing his ass and locking him at the back of her throat. He couldn’t rein it in any longer, and he tipped his head back as he shot ribbons of semen down her throat.
After a blissful moment, he returned to his body, loose and tingling. He lifted Violet to her feet and kissed her with abandon.
“You make me so happy,” he said against her cheek.
“Likewise,” she answered with a wry smile.
He didn’t care if she’d already washed her hair, but squirted some shampoo into his palm and began massaging it into Violet’s long, auburn waves. He was going to worship every inch of her luscious body, and he didn’t care how long it took him.
Chapter Thirteen
By one pm on Monday, Roz felt completely overcome with the enormity of her new tasks. Tonya had broken down the basics—how the organization was structured, how it ran, passwords to the website and the email server, member rosters, and enough digital tax documents to wallpaper a warehouse. She hadn’t realized it required a small army of witches to keep the machine running.
At one end of the cavernous foyer, Roz stood from the receptionist’s desk, where she’d pushed up a rolling chair beside Tonya, the only witch with any clout who’d stayed to help, and blew out a long breath.
“Can I just say again how sorry I am about Maks and the way he acted?”
Tonya touched her throat where he’d marked her. All signs of the scratch were gone, though obviously the mental scars ran deeper. “I joined the Coven to make a difference,” she said. “But when I got here, all I saw were witches casting curses and memos on the evils of shapeshifters. But I know a shifter, and she’s really cool. So, if you’re going to change things, then I want to help.”
“Thank you,” Roz answered with honest-to-God gratitude. She’d never expected such grace and forgiveness from the woman Volk had bent over a desk. “I don’t think I could do this without your help.”
“No sweat.” She shrugged away Roz’s appreciation. “I’ll find a way to get revenge on your attack dog. I know it wasn’t you.”
“Cool.”
“And you’re gonna need help,” Tonya continued. “I texted a couple ladies who I thought would be into rebuilding the Coven with you. They were all either rejected or dismissed for not toeing the company line.”
“That sounds amazing,” Roz said. She’d barely encountered any other witches who weren’t huge psychos. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
“Good. A couple of them are on their way over.”
Roz sat back and stared blankly at the computer screen.
“It’s overwhelming,” Tonya said, reading her mind. “I get it. If I were you, I’d post a message on the website, send a mass email to the entire address book, freeze the bank accounts, and lock the doors until you’re ready to run it. The worst thing you could do is nothing and let it all get away from you.”
It made sense. Close it down until Roz could get a handle on the organization. “Let’s do it. Transfer everything to me, then reset. I’m the only witch with a key until I learn who I can trust.”
Sure, no problem. She’d just go home and Google how to run a billion-dollar, worldwide religious conglomerate. Simple.
“Okay,” Tonya agreed, already opening sites. “Give me a few minutes.”
The main entrance doors slid open and two women strolled across the marble tile.
“There’s a new high priestess in the house,” called a tall and willowy young woman in black combat boots and a black dress. Her long hair was streaked blood red. “You must be Roz.”
“That’s me.” Roz rounded the desk to shake her hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“I’m Desiree,” the young woman greeted. “Nice to meet you. I worked and lived in this place, if you can believe it, for almost a year. I’m totally down to changing things up.”
Desiree spoke for her. “This is Graham. Her application was rejected, but she’s a really skilled witch.”
“Hi, Graham,” Roz said. “I’m glad you came.”
Desiree piped up. “Have you been on a tour yet?”
“No.” Roz glanced over her shoulder at Tonya behind the receptionist’s desk. “We were talking about closing everything down for a while.”
“Go ahead,” Tonya said. “This is going to take a few minutes.”
Desiree marched for the elevator. “Let’s start at the top and work our way down.”
“Don’t forget this.” Tonya tossed Roz a key card attached to a thin chain. “It’s the master.”
Roz caught it and stepped into the elevator with Desiree and Graham, and though it was a new day, she couldn’t help think of the last time she’d taken the ride to the top floor. It had ended with the complete evacuation of the entire building.
The elevator whooshed upward to the uppermost level. “Here we are on the executive floor,” Desiree said, playing tour guide and turning a slow pirouette in the eerily quiet space. “This is where the circle of six performed their duties.”
“How do you know so much about the organization?” Roz asked, staying near the elevator. It felt off up here.
“I was hand-selected to be a personal assistant to Meredith Rivera,” Desiree explained, “one of the circle. I had to learn everybody’s name, job, location, favorite coffee. You name it.”
“What happened?” Roz wanted to know. The woman seemed perfectly normal, if a little eccentric in her fashion choices.
“They asked me to infiltrate a group of shapeshifters, gain their trust, and then report back weaknesses.” Desiree looked uncomfortable for the first time all day. “I refused. A few days later, I received a letter telling me I’d been dismissed from the Coven and they voided my ID card.”
“Just like that?”
Desiree shrugged off the old wounds. “Just like that.”
Those circle witches really had no care in the world who they hurt or who they had to run over on their way to world domination. “Sorry it worked out like that. Was it the Las Vegas pack?” She’d have to warn Lukas and Markus they’d been targeted by the Coven. They’d need to background check everyone they associated with.