by Rachel Shane
“Only a few minutes.” He looked relieved. “Gave me quite a scare there. I’ve got to say, my kisses have inspired swooning before but never outright fainting.”
A laugh escaped her lips as it all came rushing back. “Don’t be too flattered. It was the spell. I should have warned you.”
Urgency darkened his eyes. “About that spell. Delilah—it worked.” He sounded equal parts elated and terrified it was all a mistake, a temporary fix. “I’m cured. All thoughts of the grave are gone.”
Grave.
The word pulled Delilah to her feet as the image of it filled her mind, a mirage so beautiful she nearly choked against tears. An itch spread across her skin, tingling like fire ants. Her entire body became jittery just thinking about the prospect of cold soil seeping into her pores. The weight of the earth pressing her deeper into the ground. Gorgeous darkness sucking away the rest of her eternity.
Delilah wanted it. Needed it. Had to have it.
Her pulse pounded as she scrambled away from Cole, bypassing the burning pot, the candles, and the desire to kiss him again. Her vision zoomed to her keys resting on a little hook by the doorway.
“Delilah?” Cole called after her. A part of her registered his voice as loud but another part heard it only as softly as the buzz of a bee, annoying and incessant but inconsequential. Nothing compared to the keys and the car and the thirty miles blocking her from her destiny.
A little gurgle of glee leaked out of her throat when she wrapped her fingers around the metal keys. These were her tickets to the end. They were her allies.
“Delilah?” Cole’s voice grew panicky. “What are you doing?”
She wrenched open the door and stepped into the hot night air, not even bothering to tell him goodbye. Her vision locked on her car but the grave covered her inner mind like an image superimposed, the only thing she wanted to see. Soon she’d be reunited. Soon everything would be all right. All the voices of those needing her vigilante help died in her mind, drowned out by the call of the grave. She didn’t care that she was practically in her underwear. Soon Delilah wouldn’t need anything more than dirt.
A hand wrapped around her arm. “Where are you going?”
Delilah wriggled her arm violently against Cole’s grip. “Don’t try to stop me!”
She pulled hard and broke free of his grasp but he wrapped his arms around her waist instead. “Oh my God.” His voice was low and strained. “Delilah, you didn’t.”
She kicked him hard in the shin. “It’s mine now. It belongs to me.”
He refused to let go. “You cured me…by absorbing the curse yourself.”
She didn’t deny it. Denying it would only waste time. She’d always known she could take the grave curse from him and cure him that way, but she hadn’t been strong enough until her vigilante curse kicked in.
He sucked in a desperate breath. “No. I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”
Keeping one arm wrapped around her waist, he bent down and slid the other behind her knee. Before Delilah could fight him off, he picked her up like a father might carry a petulant child. She pounded against his chest, desperate to get away, even as a voice deep down inside her demanded she stop fighting. Because this was what she once wanted. To be here. With him.
But that was before the grave.
Inside the house, he kicked the door shut and locked it, tossing her keys into another room. That won’t stop me, Delilah thought, memorizing the exact location where they landed. The plot unfolded in her mind, a quick spell to knock him unconscious and then she’d dash for the keys. She could play along long enough to do that. She could bluff too. After all, she’d learned a thing or two about poker living so close to the Strip and from the people she used to hang out with.
Except somewhere deep down she knew tricking Cole wasn’t what she wanted. She had to stay strong. Fight this demon writhing inside her.
Cole led her to the couch where he lowered her on top. He pressed his hands over her shoulders, and she wanted to fight against him. She wanted to give in and stop fighting. A tear slid down her cheek, the only part of her breaking free. He leaned over her, his voice full of concerned. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Please, give me back the curse.”
Delilah wiggled beneath him. “It’s mine now!” But the smaller voice managed to break free next with a desperate plea. “Distract me.”
“If you teach me that sage spell, I might be able to—”
She cupped her hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face to hers. Her lips met his, urgent and hungry. Him. She needed him. Not the grave. If she could indulge in this desire, even just for tonight when the call was strongest, Delilah might be able to hold on long enough to find a permanent cure if they could figure out who cursed Cole initially.
Cole’s lips were soft at first, hesitant. He pulled back, leaving her gasping, his eyes asking a question. She nodded in response.
And then he slapped a metal cuff on her left wrist. This wasn’t the question she had answered. Hers involved a silver square of foil to rip open and use, not a silver circle around her wrists. He secured the other half of the cuff to the steel table legs behind her, and she let out a relieved breath. Delilah didn’t trust herself. Cole didn’t trust her. And now it was only her mind she needed to worry about as he settled on top of her, seizing her lips in his.
His fingers traced down the contours of her body, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. Each one felt amazing enough to make her forget the grave, even if only for a moment. Delilah arched into his kiss, using her free hand to grip clumps of his gorgeous dark hair in her fist. She felt like she needed to hold on or she’d float away, her mind drifting back to the grave, her body gearing up the adrenaline needed to drag the steel table with her to the car.
Earlier tonight Delilah had wanted this without strings and now there was a string tying her to a hole in the earth. But Cole’s kisses helped drown it out. His lips descended to her neck, sucking gently on the soft skin there. Electricity whirled in the spots he touched and zapped down her torso, past her thighs, until her toes curled.
Her own tongue traced the curve of his ear, and she grinned when he let out a desperate moan.
He kissed down down down until his lips found the sharp indentation where her breasts met. He ran his finger over the rim of her tank top. “Do you trust me?” he asked.
Delilah had met him only hours ago but she felt more connected to him than any other man in her life. They’d shared secrets. They’d shared a curse. She’d saved his life and now he was saving hers. She nodded.
He gave her a small peck on the lips and then reached for the silver dagger she’d used earlier. “Stay still.” With surgical precision, he dragged the point of the blade along the fabric of her tank top until he split it into two pieces. Just the way she had done to him earlier.
He peeled the fabric off her and drank in the sight of her with a look of marvel on his face, before his mouth descended to her bare breasts. His tongue swirled over her nipple, which hardened from his touch. Little shivers erupted through her. Thoughts of having him consumed her, pushing out everything else from her mind. She needed all of him.
Delilah scrambled for the waist of his boxers, tugging it down as best she could with only one usable hand. As long as she focused on his touch, she didn’t think about anything else.
Everything felt right again with him there. He cupped her cheeks as he kissed her gently. “I want nothing more than to distract you,” he said, pulling back to study her face. “I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve of the non-magical variety that will have you unable to think of anything but pure pleasure.”
Delilah nodded desperately. Whatever he was offering, she wanted in.
“But if all you want is a distraction, then maybe we should stop here. I want to get to know you more. I don’t want a one night thing.”
Delilah pulled his lips back to hers. “I want more too. The distraction is just bonus points.”
> With that he fumbled in his crumpled jeans on the floor and grabbed a condom from his wallet. The glow of the candles danced along his back, illuminating the ripped ridges that undulated as he worked.
The hard press of his pelvis against hers sent her gasping, and when he entered her, Delilah felt whole for the first time in a long time. She was helping him but she was also helping herself, something she hadn’t done since before law school. Sensation rushed to her belly, and her breathing grew heavier with each pulse of his hips. She desperately held onto him with her free hand and wrapped her legs around his waist, anything to feel grounded.
Electric lightning crackled between her thighs, growing stronger as he thrust against her. She matched his movements, deepening the penetration until she was gasping rather than breathing. Sweat glistened on his forehead and small moans escaped his mouth. They kept kissing until they couldn’t anymore, each of them too swept up in the passion and the sensation of their tryst.
Fiery heat coursed through her, harder and faster, until Delilah couldn’t think of anything anymore. Could only feel. She let out a scream as she exploded, convulsions of pleasure rocketing through her. A little sigh of elation followed.
Just when Delilah caught her breath, ready to come down from this cloud, Cole pulled out and got to his knees. “That’s just the beginning, darling.” He lifted each of her legs over his shoulders and entered her again, this time going deeper with slow, melodic thrusts.
Immediately the sensations that had just started to fade grew more intense. Pleasure consumed her with each surge of his hips. It felt so amazing and for the first time since he put them on her, she was glad she was handcuffed. Because she’d lost all control of her body, of herself, and the cuffs were the only things keeping her in place. His own face contorted into one of pleasure as he pumped hard a few times and then let out a moan that was in league with one of Delilah’s. She exploded a second time in a matter of minutes.
He collapsed on top of her, sweaty, happy. Delilah’s mind was blissfully blank, filled only with thoughts of Cole and nothing else.
CHAPTER NINE
COLE
Cole woke to a chill that made him shiver all over. An emptiness consuming him. Before his eyes even popped open, he knew. The sense of dread had been sitting there, welling in his stomach, while he slept.
She was gone.
He bolted upright, fumbling around him as if he might find her stuffed into the couch cushions like loose change. Tugging on his pants, he zoomed around the house, opening every door, just in case. But there was no use. Cole already knew where she was. A glance at the driveway confirmed it. Her car was gone too.
His pulse amped and he raked his hand through his sleep-matted hair. He grabbed his keys only to remember his car was still at her office. Shit. He was stranded, with no way to help the girl who helped everyone else. His fingers shook as he dialed, pressing each number into his phone carefully so as not to slip and waste time by dialing again.
Cole jammed his eyes shut while it rang, pacing the hardwood floor and snuffing out candles with a gust of his breath. Anything to distract him the way he distracted Delilah only a few hours earlier. But he wasn’t strong enough. He’d wrapped his arms around her and fell asleep holding her in place—the handcuffs doing the rest—but she’d managed to get out of both his embrace and the locks without waking him up.
He would have thought that was impossible. But of course, magic made anything possible.
“Hello?” Jewel answered on the sixth ring, her voice groggy. A glance at the clock told him it was three o’clock in the morning and he let out an anguished cry at that news. How much of a head start did Delilah have?
“I need you to come get me. Now. I’ll explain on the way.”
Jewel sucked in a breath. “I’m not taking you to the grave.”
“It’s not for me.” Cole was practically shouting now, trying to get through to her. “I’m no longer cursed. Delilah is. And I have to save her.”
Jewel let out a sigh. “Cole, I—”
“Call your neighbor to watch the kids. Please.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. Never mind, I’ll call a taxi, that’ll be faster.”
Cole was just about to hang up when Jewel said, “No, wait!” She seemed to be catching her breath. “I’ll come get you. I’m getting dressed.”
His eyes fluttered shut in relief. “Please hurry.”
He paced the floor of Delilah’s house for the entire twenty minutes it took Jewel to get to him. He’d been banking on her arriving in only five minutes. No, one minute. Hell, he would have accepted her inventing teleportation without question. All calls to Delilah’s cell phone went unanswered. When he slipped into Jewel’s car, she looked tired and harried. He was pretty sure he looked the same.
“Sorry for the delay, but it’s not easy explaining to your seventy-year-old neighbor exactly why she needs to watch your kids in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll buy her a fruit basket in thanks. Or better yet, a cat!” The joke died on Cole’s lips, failing at its one job: providing him levity.
Jewel gave him a tight smile. “With what money?”
Cole gritted his teeth on the entire drive—hoping, begging, and praying that Delilah would be all right. That they could continue where they left off with her arms and legs wrapped around him. He’d only just met her but he didn’t want this to be the end before anything could even start. “I’m scared, Jewel.”
She pressed her hand on top of his. “You have nothing to be scared about. You’re cured.”
But it wasn’t himself Cole was scared for anymore.
As Jewel’s car pulled into the cemetery, his gut twisted. Cole had never liked cemeteries before but now this one held a particularly harrowing PTSD feeling. His throat started to close as their car bumped along the narrow pathway. Before Jewel put it in park, he wrenched open the door and scrambled out. His breath came out ragged as he raced as fast as he could toward the grave. Each step made bile swim in his esophagus. Yesterday he’d almost killed himself here and today he was willingly running toward it.
Grunts preceded the view of Delilah, buried knee deep in the newly dug hole, desperately trying to cover herself with dirt. Dust from the smashed cement and splintered wooden planks drifted in the air. Delilah must have pulverized them with magic. Candles ringing the gravesite drenched her in a spotlight. When she glanced up at him, her eyes were wild and fierce, possessed like a cat’s. “Stay away,” she snarled.
Without thinking, Cole jumped into the grave, landing on a mound of dirt that rose higher than Delilah’s shoulder. He extended his hand. “Let me help you.”
She threw a clump of dirt at his face, plastering his skin. “Get out.” But even as she said it, her shaking palm drifted toward him, and she concentrated with all her effort to send it his way. He gripped her fingers, wrapping his firm grip around hers. But then she wrenched hers back and pulled another armful of dirt over her thighs.
The same thighs Cole had kissed earlier.
Jewel reached the edge of the grave and gasped, cupping her hands over her mouth.
“Call the police,” he yelled. “The fire department. Britta! We need backup here. Maybe Britta knows a counter-spell to help us.”
Jewel nodded and slowly backed away from the grave. He spotted her almost out of view, pressing her phone to her ear. Her mouth moved silently, her voice too low to make out the words.
Cole reached for Delilah again. “Please. You don’t want to do this.”
“I know I don’t!” she said as she covered herself in more dirt. “But I can’t stop!”
“Deep breath,” he said. “In poker, I have to keep a steady hand and face. I can’t show my cards. If I concentrate only on my breath, I can keep my face stoic, I can win the greatest of bluffs.”
Her chest rose in and out and she kept her eyes locked on his. Her hand stilled, stopping the spread of the dirt.
“Good. In and out. Listen to my voice o
nly.” Cole risked inching toward her. If he could wrap his arms around her waist, maybe he could pull her out. She wasn’t buried too deep. Yet.
Cole inched forward, scooting along the dirt, until he could interlock his hands behind her lower back. God, it felt amazing for her to be in his embrace again. She gave him the slightest of smiles as she continued to breathe. And then the fierceness returned to her eyes a split second before she slammed both palms into his chest and pushed him away.
He fell backward onto the dirt, the wind fleeing from his chest. His elbow dug into the earth. The sweet, sweet earth. It looked so beautiful, a blanket in the darkness. He ran his fingers over it, dazzling at the velvety touch.
Buried in it, he thought. I need to be buried in it.
Without hesitation, Cole started coating his legs with the dirt. One glance at Delilah made him seethe with jealousy. She was already so covered. In his grave. She’d stolen it from him.
And only one of them would fit. It had to be him.
Like a bull ready to charge, Cole met her eyes, and she met his with the same ferocity. His lungs pulsed and they both glared at each other in a fighting stance. He could stop, try to bury himself faster than her, or he could remove her entirely.
She must have had the same thought because she recited a quick spell and suddenly Cole flew upward, out of the grave completely. He landed with a sickening thud on the grass next to the hole, his head throbbing, his legs sore. Everything in his body felt heavy as he pushed himself upright only to discover Delilah working faster with the dirt. It was up to her ribs now.
Cole jumped back into the grave and frantically started working again. He had to beat her.
She pulled at the earth covering his toes like children fighting over sandbox territory. “You’re just glutton for punishment, aren’t you? I can do that harder, you know?”
“That’s because you’re a cheater,” he snapped back. “You know I won’t hurt you.”