“You can wiggle all you want,” Dorian said. “I’m rather enjoying it.” At that I stilled, my body going limp and melting against his. Now that I’d calmed down, I noticed the scent of his cologne—woodsy and clean. I wanted to inhale deep, take it into my lungs and store it in my memory, but that would have defeated the point I was trying to make. I was mad, reeling and frustrated beyond belief. But man, did he smell good, and the feel of his body just beneath mine threatened to penetrate my determination.
His fingers flexed on the small of my back. Frustrations gone, I was hyperaware of those hands and the path they were beginning to follow. I held my breath as they slid across the hollow of my back. My shirt had come up a little bit with my earlier struggle, and the warmth of Dorian’s fingers on my bare skin was making me forget why I was mad in the first place.
“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened in Massachusetts?” Dorian’s voice was low, smooth and raspy with his inner thoughts. Given what question he’d just asked, I could guess what he was thinking about.
I released the breath I’d been holding, unsure how to respond. We’d come so close to sealing the deal and now it was the constant elephant in the room. Dorian wanted to discuss it while I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to flirt and train with Dorian, not categorize our relationship. Those kinds of conversations always led to rules, intense emotions and heartbreak. Since my heart was already broken, I was a bit protective of it. Not that Dorian was looking to sweep me off my feet. He’d told me multiple times that he didn’t do the whole relationship thing. No, his motto was more of the ‘wham-bam, thank you ma’am’ variety than the hopeless romantic so many women are looking for. Though I doubted he ever told the women thank you. I smiled through my nerves, imagining Dorian devoted to one woman and mushy. It just didn’t fit the man.
“Can you please let me go?” I couldn’t have this conversation while in such an awkward position.
“Since you asked so nicely,” Dorian said with a smile in his voice. His arms fell away from my waist and I crawled backwards off him. Sitting crossed-legged, I picked a piece of grass and studied it. Dorian didn’t push; he laid beside me waiting and staring up at the night sky. A million excuses ran through my mind, none of them helpful. Like earlier tonight, this was yet another conversation that needed to be visited. I just hope it went as well as the one with Aiden.
“Massachusetts was…” I searched for the right word, something efficient enough to get my point across, but not too harsh. Dorian didn’t seem like the type to have his pride tested. And in truth I did like him, maybe a little more than I should. His kiss was imprinted in my mind. No matter how many times I told myself to forget about him, at least until my life was sorted out, my brain wouldn’t let go.
“Was…?” Dorian drawled the question out.
I looked up through the curtain of my black hair that’d fallen over my right eye. Dorian had his arms bent behind his head, his body stretched out along the ground. Though it was the middle of January the cold didn’t seem to affect him. He drove his motorcycle twelve months a year. I, on the other hand, was starting to shiver. We hadn’t gotten a lot of snow, but the temperature of the icy cold ground was soaking through my jeans and straight into my bones.
“It was great, considering,” I said.
“Considering?”
I so did not want to have this conversation. Discussing feelings and heartache to a man who didn’t feel those things was nearly impossible.
“I’d just broken up with Aiden. I know you’re an emotionless tough guy, but I’m not. Ending things with him crushed me.” Dorian grumbled and I frowned.
“Yet you kissed me, a lot.”
“I know,” I whispered. I knew his next question would be why. Why had I kissed him if I was pining for Aiden? To that I did not have a response, at least not one that would please him. I had two reasons: I was attracted to Dorian, plain and simple. And I thought by giving in to him for one night, it would erase Aiden from my mind. I couldn’t tell him that though. It was too cruel.
“You’re wrong you know,” Dorian said after a while. I looked over at him, studied the way his hair swayed as the winter breeze stirred it. His eyes were closed as if he were completely content to stay in the middle of the field all night. As for me, I was freezing my ass off. When I didn’t respond he peeked through one eye to look at me. Catching my stare, Dorian propped himself up on his elbows. We were locked in each other’s gazes. The gloominess of his eyes was difficult to see in the darkness, but I could tell the clouds were light, calm even.
“What am I wrong about?” I spoke soft, undecided to whether I wanted to hear his answer. Something told me that when it came to Dorian, I was wrong about a lot of things.
“I’m not emotionless,” he replied just as soft. “I care about you. I didn’t know why I placed myself in your path, not at first.” He took a deep breath and then settled back down on the ground. “I told myself it was because of what you are, and it was my job to direct you to do my bidding.”
I snorted and shook my head. The moonlight highlighted the slight upturn of Dorian’s lips. He was such a cocky bastard sometimes. Another tidbit I’d learned while in Moon was that Spirit Walkers use to be Death’s bounty hunters. They tracked down spirits and escorted them to the realm of the dead. Since my kind was quickly becoming extinct, Dorian was forced to work in the field too.
“But,” Dorian continued, interrupting my thoughts. “My interest in you has nothing to do with what you can do for me, at least not job wise.”
I yanked a handful of grass up and threw it at him. He chuckled, brushing the blades off his face.
“I’m trying to have an emotional moment here. Stop ruining it. It may be the last one you ever witness.” When I did not respond, he continued. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve affected me in a way I never expected. For such a stubborn, smart mouthed woman you sure do know how to charm men.”
Okay, so he had some work to do where sweet-talking was concerned, but his compliment/insult still had the same affect. Emotions I tried to ignore bloomed within me, straining for attention. I tamped them back down but could not contain the smile that slipped onto my lips.
The next morning I tried slipping out of the apartment before Dorian woke up. I tiptoed down the hallway as to not disturb his sleep. Making my way into the kitchen, I grabbed my coat and slipped it on, weaving a gray scarf around my neck. Last night had not offered a lot of sleep. My mind was too occupied with Dorian’s emotional spill and the thought of losing my magic forever. I’d come to depend on it much more than I realized, even though I didn’t use it 24/7. It was my security blanket, and like a small child I wanted to throw a tantrum that it’d be taken away.
“Where are you going?”
I jumped when Dorian’s voice sounded from behind me.
“To work,” I told him. “You know, that thing that pays the bills?” The lack of sleep might have made me a little grumpy, or maybe it was the constant questioning from him. Either way, I didn’t want to listen to his lecture about being precautious.
“I’ll send Eddie to watch over you,” Dorian said.
I’d not only acquired Death as a roommate, but a ghost named Eddie. We’d picked him up while at the bed and breakfast. Dorian used him from time to time to track down spirits and whatever else he didn’t feel like doing. Since returning to Flora, Eddie had made himself scarce, choosing to hang out in the cemetery rather than my tiny apartment.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be, you know, collecting the souls of the dead?” I still had no clue what Dorian’s job description entailed. He’s the Angel of Death, sure, but people died every single day and here he was hanging out in Flora.
“Death comes whether I’m there or not,” Dorian replied. “I’m simply the one to make people reach their expiration date.”
I sneered. “That’s a heartless way to put it.”
“According to you I don’t have a heart so I�
��m sticking with my character,” Dorian bit out. He may have been a little ticked that I didn’t respond to his heartfelt speech last night. I listened, nodded and then complained that I was cold and wanted to head home. Dorian showed me a vulnerable side of himself and I ruined the moment.
I took a deep breath, annoyed with myself and Dorian. “I didn’t mean you’re heartless. It’s just difficult to talk to you about things when you don’t seem to have any emotions where people are concerned.”
Dorian stepped towards me. I watched the way the thin t-shirt hugged his chest and the looseness of his pajama pants hung. That nagging voice inside my head asked why the hell I hadn’t given into him already. Chills that had nothing to do with the temperature in the room radiated throughout my body. My fingers itched to reach out and span the broadness of his shoulders; to move upwards and into his silky smooth hair. I imagined myself doing it: gaining courage and letting go of my inhibitions. I was lost in the thought of what I wanted to do with him. My eyes closed in a long blink as I remembered how his strong arms felt circled around my waist, tugging me toward his body. The way his mouth felt on my lips and the taste of his tongue as it massaged mine. My body quivered for him.
Dorian stepped closer, his fingers curling around my waist and guiding my body to his. I looked up; my breathing shallow and my heart pumping like a wild animal. I loved these moments: when we were close and the only conversation was held between the stares of our hungry eyes. The attraction was real. There was no denying it. In these moments my feelings couldn’t be excused as anything else. I was an open book and Dorian read me.
“I…have to go.”
“Then go,” Dorian said softly. It came out sounding like a challenge to my ears. And it was difficult to remove myself from his embrace and walk out the door. How wonderful it would be to spend the entire day curled up with him. I smiled, my earlier frustrations forgotten. He had a way of making that happen without my knowledge. One minute I would resent him and the next I was losing myself in the cloudy abyss in his eyes.
“Promise not to send Eddie?”
“I do not,” he said with a shake of his head.
The annoyance was back. Turning out of his arms, I grabbed my keys and purse. I wanted one day without a reminder of what my life had turned into. Before I knew I could see and control ghosts, before the distribution of Brew had thrown my entire world off its axis. The days when I was a simple witch with a magic shop, and the most exciting thing to happen to me was getting new shipments in. It sounds pathetic, I know, but it was my life. Each day a little bit of the woman I used to be was erased and replaced with one I didn’t recognize.
“I’ll be working late,” I told Dorian as I left.
*
“Good morning,” I said as I walked through the front door of my shop, Broomsticks. I hadn’t worked much since returning to Flora and the guilt was eating me up. Penny had been my rock, taking care of the store and even setting up a website so that we could sell online.
“Hey,” Penny greeted me. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“Yeah, sorry I’ve been such a slacker lately. From now on I’ll be back to my regular schedule.”
I stowed my jacket and purse beneath the front counter and slipped out the folder that contained shipping invoices. I needed to take inventory and order more products otherwise Broomsticks wouldn’t be in business much longer.
“Not a slacker at all,” Penny said coming up to lean on the counter. “Just busy. Besides, you’re the boss which means you can have minions to do work for you.”
I laughed and looked up at her. “Only villains have minions. Is that what you think of me?”
“Of course not, but the idea of having minions might be enough to tempt me into becoming one myself.”
“Would your plan be to blow up the world unless the government paid you one hundred cajillion dollars?” Penny gave me that look—the one that said she thought I was a dork.
“Austin Powers was on TV the other night,” I explained.
Penny laughed. “No, I’d be a much better villain than Dr. Evil.”
“I don’t know, with a name like that it’s hard to be eviler.” We both smiled and shook our heads. It was amazing the random things I found myself talking to Penny about. My eye caught sight of something moving along the shelves towards the back of the store.
“Eddie, get your butt up here,” I called.
“Who’s Eddie?” Penny asked, craning her neck to see what I was looking at.
“He’s a ghost,” I told her. When Eddie didn’t appear, I walked around the counter and headed back to where I saw him. For most people, tracking down a spirit who didn’t want to be found was next to impossible. For me it was quite simple.
“What’s a ghost doing in Broomsticks?” Penny asked right behind me, causing me to jump. She seemed frightened herself so I smiled in hopes of reassuring her everything was okay.
“He’s…a friend,” I told her.
Closing my eyes I concentrated on pinpointing where he was hiding while I continued to walk down the aisle.
“Edddiee,” I drawled. “Come out, come out wherever you are.” I felt a cold gust of wind whoosh past in front of my face and then disappear. Opening my eyes, I rushed forward, following the icy coldness of the ghost. As I rounded the corner, I caught sight of a white mist disappearing behind another shelf. I ran forward, wanting to end the game of cat and mouse. Just as I reached my hand out to grab him, Eddie floated through the wall. Grumbling in frustration, I turned around and headed back to my office.
“So you have a ghost as a friend?” Penny asked, following me through the door that led to the back of the store.
“Kinda. Hey, why don’t you take today off? You’ve been working non-stop for the last few weeks. You deserve a break.” All of that was true, but I could tell that having a ghost in the store creeped her out. I didn’t want her more freaked out when Eddie decided to pop back up.
“Are you sure?” Penny asked with uncertainty. She looked over her shoulder then around the small stock room.
“Yeah, I’m sure. Go have some fun for a change.” I retrieved the office laptop and together Penny and I walked back up front. Through the large bay window I could see sleet beginning to fall. There wouldn’t be a lot of business today.
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Penny asked as she put her coat on and headed toward the door.
“Absolutely,” I told her, unlocking the door and holding it open. When she left I flipped the closed sign to open and headed back to the counter. Setting the computer down, I picked up a notepad and decided to take inventory while the store was empty.
After an hour I was almost done and about dead from boredom. My mind was otherwise engaged, and I couldn’t concentrate on ordering more potions and knick-knacks. I was sitting at the counter with my computer open and filling out an order form when the bell above the door chimed. Mrs. Dobson was the only customer through the door today and she was only here for the basic spell casting supplies: candles, dried herbs and oils.
When I saw the face of my new customer the red flags went up. I didn’t recognize him which was strange in a town as small as Flora. He was tall, maybe six-foot-two, and almost as skinny as a skeleton. His cheeks were sunken and dark circles ringed his gray eyes. The military style jacket he wore was dirty in various spots and ripped in others. He had buzzed, sandy brown hair and a piercing in his left earlobe. When he turned to look back at the door, I caught site of a dagger tattoo etched along the length of his neck. Definitely not from Flora.
“Can I help you?” I slid off the stool, and crossed my fisted hands across my chest to hide my nervousness.
The man jerked his head in my direction, his eyes menacing. “Perhaps,” he said. “You Gwen Sparks?”
“No,” I said feigning confusion.
The man stepped closer and I took a step back, hitting my back against the wall. A devious smile curled his lips, and he reached behind his bac
k and pulled out a double-edged dagger.
“I think you are her,” the man said, waving the blade and watching as the lights reflected against its sharp edge.
“I’m not,” I told him again. “You don’t want to kill the wrong person, do you?”
The man shrugged his bony shoulders. “I could be wrong, you could be someone else, but I don’t think I am. And if it turns out I am…oh well.”
Shit, shit, shit.
I tried to focus on my magic, direct it to my trembling hands, but the man rushed me. He bolted for me and I scrambled in the other direction. Just as I was about to jump over the counter, I was yanked back by my hair. A scream bubbled up my throat and filled the store with my terror. Reaching my hands up, I tried to break his hold on me, but fighting backwards wasn’t doing any good. Though fear consumed me, I channeled my magic to my fingertips and zapped the man’s hands. Still he didn’t let go.
Shit, shit, shit. My mind screamed again.
Before I could think of what else to do, the guy yanked me back further and then shoved me forward, slamming my face against the hard Formica. Stars and black fuzziness obscured my vision, but I fought to stay conscious. Blood gushed down my nostrils and onto my lips and counter. It took me a few seconds to come back to reality, pushing through the haze of dizziness.
“I think I’ll take my time with you,” the man remarked with sadistic excitement. I yelped when he tugged on my hair again. Unless I wanted to have a bald spot I needed to go in the direction he was pulling. When I was standing up straight again, he turned me around to face him. His eyes were alight with satisfaction, and he waved the dagger inches in front of me.
“Sit,” he ordered. When I didn’t listen to him, his hand came up and a white-hot burn heated the side of my face. The fuzzy stars that were starting to fade popped back up. My skull rattled with the hit and an instant migraine assaulted my head.
“Sit!” he screamed.
I was consumed by rage, driven over the edge by fear and the pain he caused. I sneered at him through the haze and the strands of my hair hanging in my face. I was breathing heavily and my hands lit up like lanterns. The man glanced down at my arms, a smirk lifting his mouth.
Coveted - Book 3 in the Gwen Sparks Series Page 3