An American Witch in Paris

by Michele Hauf

  “Is this witchcraft?” he said on a gasp.

  “Call it bloodcraft. A kind of bonding that goes beyond the external. Our souls are touching.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly how I feel it. Some kind of soul bond.”

  And she didn’t want it to stop. But it really was too much. Her mind flew. And her body shuddered uncontrollably. Ethan’s teeth had left her neck, his tongue losing its pace lapping her blood. Together they had ceased to rock into one another for they’d become bound in an inner embrace that sparkled and held them at the edge of life and death.

  Ethan’s jaw tensed. He growled, gasping then searching for the release. And with a flick of his finger across her clit, he surrendered and Tuesday fell into the strange but marvelous experience as her body released. Ethan bucked against her. She took it all in as the world moved through her veins and to her every nerve ending.

  They froze together in that penultimate moment catching one another’s gaze and peering deep into their reflections. And in that moment the twosome had never known another being so intimately.

  * * *

  Tuesday slid out of bed and padded into the kitchen, where she pulled the orange juice from the fridge. She poured a glass then drank it.

  “Tuesday...”

  She turned toward the bedroom, but shook her head. She hadn’t heard Ethan call out to her audibly. Had she...?

  “The bed is growing cold on your side. Come back to me.”

  Touching her ear, she realized she’d heard him say that to her...in her thoughts. Like a dream, but only it was happening now while she was wide awake.

  Let me finish my juice, she thought.

  And then she heard him chuckle. Again, not audibly. She felt Ethan’s mirth warm her chest and it was almost as if she’d laughed herself. What was that about?

  She set down the glass and teased the ends of her hair as she stared off toward the bedroom. They’d been so close in those moments when he’d been drinking her blood and fucking her at the same time. Truly, they had delved into some kind of blood bond.

  Walking fast, she entered the bedroom and glided onto the bed beside Ethan. He patted the cooling side of the sheets, indicating where he wanted her.

  “Did you just talk to me in my head?” she asked.

  “I did.”

  “Vampire persuasion?”

  “No. I mean, I don’t think so. It was a thought that I sent to you, hoping you’d hear. I heard you reply when you were drinking juice.”

  “We can communicate silently now?” She snuggled up next to him, fitting one leg between both of his as she nudged up her breasts to hug his chest.

  He pushed the hair from her neck and studied where he’d bitten her. “It must be residual effects from what we just did.”

  “Yes. I’ve never tried it before,” she said.

  “Really, Miss Fang Junkie?”

  “It was either the bite or sex. Never at the same time.”

  “Wow, you do have a discerning bone.”

  “Richard.”

  “That was deserved. But you did say this would bond us and make us stronger together.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I? It was a lark. I’ve heard it could work, but I was thinking more toward making us a powerful duo tracking the demon. I’m not sure how feeling one another’s pleasure is going to help that. Did you feel it all? When I did this...” She reached down and fluttered his forefinger over her folds and then pressed at the peak of them, igniting a twinge of pleasure at her clit.

  Ethan sucked in a hiss. “Just the right amount of pressure and, ah, witch, you really fly.”

  “Yeah? Well, I never knew what it could feel like to do this.” She gripped his cock and squeezed, and in reaction she felt her stomach tense and her loins sing. “That is so not bad. Do you think we bonded? I mean, I’ve heard that vamps can bond with others by sharing blood. I didn’t take your blood. And I’ve been with other vampires before. This never happened.”

  “I don’t have an answer for you. It’s weird, but cool. Probably it was a soul thing.”

  “Would that be okay with you? I mean, you said you’ve never felt soul-deep toward a woman.”

  “It’s all right by me for now.” He clasped her hand and leaned in to kiss her neck, which sent a shiver down her spine. He breathed on her skin, which tickled as well. “Who knows how long it’ll last. Let’s go with it for as long as we have it, yes?”

  “No arguments from this witch.”

  She settled next to him, both of them staring up at the ceiling. Moonlight shone across a nearby rooftop and glinted copper outside the window.

  “Tell me why you pulled a three-sixty from flying back to the States?” Ethan asked. “Was it just to fuck me?”

  “That was one reason. But another was that this witch never backs down from a challenge.”

  “Even if that challenge threatened to end you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I could feel that bastard hold my heart, Ethan. He promised to rip it out should I go after him again. But bring it on. This witch is not about to run with her tail between her heels because some pretty demon wants to play piñata with my heart.”

  “It’s dangerous for you to go near him. I’ve learned more about the demon’s curse. I stopped into the Archives while you must have been at the airport. CJ and I looked up Gazariel. I had no idea the curse originated with—”

  “Himself.” Tuesday felt a catch in her throat speaking that name. “It’s something I’ve always known. Felt. But never articulated. Didn’t want to put it into words because I didn’t want to believe I was in any way connected to that asshole.”

  “The grand high asshole of all assholes.”

  “Exactly. A super Richard.” She lifted her head to find his gaze. “Just because I’m primed for the challenge doesn’t mean I’m not also freaked the hell out. I can’t do this alone. And I know you can’t do it without me.”

  “But now you’ve made me into some kind of magical tracking device. So maybe I can?”

  “True.” She smoothed her hand over his abs, where she’d drawn the spell and gifted him her magic. “Of course you can, but... Can we do this together?”

  “You’ve no reason to seek the demon, Tuesday. It means nothing to you to get back the Final Days code. You’re free to leave Paris. I mean that. I don’t want you involved if the expense means your life.”

  “Seriously? It means everything to me if the result of having the code enacted means I’ll be smothered by angels when they fall. I am affected by this, Ethan. This is kind of a world-saving venture, and I do live in the world.”

  “You’ve got a point.”

  “I don’t understand why Gazariel would give such a devious weapon to the vampiress. He seems to thrive living amongst the mortals. And without them, he would be left with the angels and...Himself. The very last being I imagine he’d want to associate with. There’s something we’re missing.”

  Ethan rolled to his side and absently stroked his fingers along her hip and up her stomach. “So you’re in?”

  “All the way up to my tits.”

  “They are nice tits.” He squeezed one of them then gasped. “Man, that feels ten times better than when you pinch mine. Yours are so sensitive.” He leaned forward and sucked one into his mouth, groaning with the shared pleasure.

  And Tuesday closed her eyes, wondering when she’d lost her way. This man was only supposed to be a quick fuck and then she had planned to dash back to the States. Yet every part of her wanted to stay near him, to not lose contact with him. It was as if, with the bite and the sex, they had again bound themselves to one another with a stronger bond than even her magic could manage.

  And the word love kept bouncing against her brain cells. Well, she didn’t have to worry about that. The man couldn’t love her. He could, but then it would explode and he’d leav
e or call her a bitch and hate her forever. True love was the key to breaking the curse? Never happen in her lifetime.

  “I have a sort of plan,” he said, rolling to his back again.

  Missing his heat at her nipple, Tuesday laid her palm over the wet peak. “Tell me.”

  “First we need to capture the demon. Even if Anyx is with him. I have to add measures to contain her as well. If she’s been gifted the book she could be attempting to decipher the code right now.”

  “So we need them both.”

  “We do.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then we twist the screws to his thumbs.”

  “Literally? You know, I’ve seen people tortured with thumbscrews. It is so not pretty.”

  “I’ve seen it too. Metaphorically, we’ll twist the screws by threatening to send Gazariel to Daemonia.”

  “Really? He would not like that place very much. They’d chew up a fallen angel and regurgitate him over and over. And over.”

  “You knew he was a Fallen One?”

  “He told me. Creator of Vanity, remember? Just like the curse has always been inside me, and I’ve sensed it was birthed from the Big Bad Dude, I also felt the demon’s ethereal ties before he cursed me. But how would you put him in Daemonia?”

  “I know a reckoner.”

  “Good to have one of those guys on your contacts list.”

  “Exactly. So our first step is to track the demon again.”

  “All right, but I’m hungry, and I probably need another shower after all that sex. Want to share the water?”

  “Go get it warmed up for me.”

  “Aha! Yeah, I don’t think so, vampire. Why don’t you go warm it up for me?”

  Ethan sat up and gave her a mock bow. “Your beck is my command.”

  “Damn right it is. About time I get to tell you what to do.”

  “Stuart, start the shower.”

  And as her lover wandered into the bathroom, Tuesday decided that indeed, it was her turn at command. His plan to capture the demon hadn’t worked. He was emotionally stalled by the vampiress and he didn’t realize that weakness.

  Now it was time for the witch to take control.

  Chapter 16

  Ethan followed Tuesday up the narrow, spiraling staircase to the fifth floor, where Savin Thorne lived in an apartment building in the fourteenth arrondissement. He’d texted Thorne an hour earlier, asking if he could stop by, and had gotten a return text that he was always welcome. It was evening, but not so late that the streets weren’t packed with tourists and the locals were finishing an evening meal.

  On occasion, Acquisitions employed reckoners in whatever locale they were needed. Sometimes demons who had broken mortal realm laws, or who were volatile and impossible to contain, required deportation back to Daemonia. That was a reckoner’s job. And while Acquisitions wasn’t in the business of capturing demons, sometimes that was a necessary by-blow of a job. Nasty demon attached to a toxic or volatile artifact? The retriever may be forced to take both. A helpful demon who refused to leave after the job was done? So long, Sunshine. Or a demon who had stolen a book that could end the world? The threat of Daemonia may be the only thing that could get him to cough it up.

  Daemonia was The Place of All Demons. Not exactly all demons. But it was where the majority lived and existed. It wasn’t Beneath or the hell the humans made up to balance out their religious beliefs. It was simply another realm where demons lived. Much like Faery housed faeries. It wasn’t a good place. A mortal, or nondemon, would not care to go there, even for a brief visit. The dark witch Certainly Jones had gone there and returned without too much physical harm. It was the mental damage that could never be completely assessed. Or healed.

  Ethan had personally called in Savin Thorne to send demons back to Daemonia on two occasions. Reckoners had a particular tie to Daemonia, yet they were not generally demons. Thorne was mortal, to an extent. Ethan wasn’t sure what to call him, exactly. And he didn’t want to get caught up in labels. He knew the man was trustworthy, smart, a loner, and could drink him under the table any day. And that was saying a lot, considering vampires generally didn’t get drunk unless they literally swam in alcohol.

  The sway of Tuesday’s coat focused his attention on the reveal of her ass beneath the long alpaca fur. So tight and...he could feel it in his hands.

  Using the silent mind communication they’d gained from their sexual encounter, Ethan put out a thought. You distract me, witch.

  Right back atcha, vampire was her silent response.

  She arrived at the only door on the fifth floor and turned to eye him, with a wink. Teasing her tongue along her lips, she lowered her gaze to his crotch. Where a healthy hard-on threatened to make walking difficult if he didn’t steer his mind away from Tuesday’s sexy curves and stunning kisses to focus on the task at hand.

  Ethan leaned in to brush her cheek with his kiss. “Save it for later,” he muttered, then rapped on the door.

  Just now noticing the strains of bluesy guitar music filtering behind the door, Ethan smiled. The man did like to settle in with a whiskey and his guitar. He collected guitars, and even played the diddley bow, which was a one-stringed guitarlike instrument.

  The music stopped and the door swung open five seconds later to reveal a big, hulking man with dark hair, an imposing beard and narrowed eyes, yet a smile that was so overwhelmingly honest he could tease even the most wicked demon to step forward and risk their chances with his unique skill.

  “Ethan Pierce! Good to see you, man. Come on in. And let the little lady through first.”

  “Savin Thorne, this is Tuesday Knightsbridge. Tuesday, Savin.”

  They shook hands, and Savin enclosed Tuesday’s hand with both of his and bowed to her. “Namaste, dark witch. Enter my home with no ill intent and I open my wards to you,” he offered.

  “Agreed,” Tuesday said.

  And Ethan felt a tug at his skin as, with a sweep of his hand before them, Savin released whatever wards he had up.

  “That one pinched,” Tuesday offered. “You’re fully warded.”

  “Not wise to live any other way.” Savin gestured for them to follow him through an industrial-style kitchen and beyond to the living area. Dark beams supported the ceiling and bare brickwork fashioned the walls. Steel shelves and wood furniture with faded and cracked leather cushions revealed the place to be the ultimate man cave. Add to that the wall of guitars behind the sofa, and the amps spread out along one wall, and Ethan decided the man could probably get lost in his music and not give a care for the world that bustled outside.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Savin asked. “I know it’s still early but I’ve got an awesome whiskey aged to perfection. You want to try it, don’t you, Ethan?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “I’ll give it a go,” Tuesday said as she sat on the sofa, crossed her legs and shrugged off her coat. A battered electric guitar lay on the cushion next to her and she stroked her fingers down the strings and along the wooden body. “I can feel the power in this one. You practice musicomancy.”

  Savin returned with two glasses, handing one to Ethan, who stood by a thick beam that resembled a railroad tie, and the other to Tuesday. “I do. Or I’m learning it. Still don’t have much control over it. You could feel it in the guitar?”

  “Of course.” She took her fingers away from the instrument. “Keep working on it. The guitar is infused with your efforts.”

  “Thanks. I will. So.” Savin turned to Ethan, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “What’s up? Generally if you need a demon reckoned you shoot me a call and tell me where to be.”

  “I don’t have the demon under control yet,” Ethan said. “But I wanted to put you on call, if that’s possible.” He tilted back a swallow of the whiskey and winced. “Fuck, this is tight.”

&nbs
p; “Secret recipe.” He tapped his temple. “Got it from somewhere I don’t even want to question too much. What demon are you dealing with?”

  “Gazariel, The Beautiful One.”

  Savin crimped an eyebrow. “Not sure I’ve heard of that one.”

  “He’s a Fallen One,” Tuesday offered. “Not originally from Daemonia. But you can still send him there?”

  “Of course. But those Fallen bastards are a bitch to deal with. How do you plan on containing him long enough for me to get there and send him off?”

  “That’s still in the planning phase,” Ethan said. “I was hoping you might have some suggestions. I need all the help I can get with this one.”

  “What’s the demon done?”

  “It’s what he’s got. And I may not need you to send him to Daemonia, but rather, offer the real threat of such a thing happening.”

  “A Fallen One would not want to go to Daemonia. I’ve reckoned one of them and it was a bitch. They put up quite the fight. But The Beautiful One? What are we dealing with here? A preening poseur?”

  “Something like that.” Ethan took another swig and still couldn’t stop a wince at the burn. But it was a good burn. “The demon has the code for the Final Days. We need to get that from him and lock it away nice and safe.”

  “Yeah, I’d agree with that. Not much for being smothered by gajillions of angels. You want more?” Savin asked Tuesday.

  “No, thanks. This is some powerful stuff.”

  “Brewed by Scottish trolls.”

  Ethan raised an eyebrow at that one. The man did have a habit of making stuff up. Just for shits and giggles.

  “It’s true,” Savin defended, noticing Ethan’s doubt. “Just ask the mermaid who sold it to me.” With that, he laughed heartily, and Ethan joined him. “You want me to stand by for the call should you manage to wrangle this demon? I can get anywhere in the city in about twenty minutes, depending on how traffic cooperates. I assume you’ll probably hold him at headquarters?”