The marks vanished.
Her smile was so beautiful it broke the heart he’d long forgotten.
“You’re safe, Serena, and your coven’s safe.”
She had her magic, her sisters of the blood.
Her life would be just fine.
As for his…
It would never be the same.
He wasn’t the type for good-byes. Especially not with her.
They went back to her home, crossed the threshold just as the first rays of the dawn light trickled across the sky.
He knew that he should leave her. Just walk away.
But he couldn’t, not without having her just one more time.
A final time.
Luis carried Serena to her bedroom. He didn’t bother turning on any of the lights. He undressed her slowly, tenderly. Kissed the hollow of her throat. Tasted the sweetness of her nipples.
His tongue laved the soft curve of her belly, teased the piercing that drove him wild.
His fingers caressed her hips. Parted her thighs. Touched the warm cream that waited for him.
Before, he’d known heat and wild passion with her.
This time, it was different.
When he sank into her, the first thrust was slow. Her sex took him eagerly, squeezing his cock and coating his flesh with her slick heat.
Her eyes were open and locked with his as he withdrew, then thrust. The rhythm was slow, but the hunger burned just as fiercely as before in his blood.
Their lips met in a kiss. Mouths open, tongues tangling. His fingers caressed the center of her arousal even as he drove into her.
The bed squeaked beneath them. The scent of sex filled the air, and her taste flowed onto his tongue.
His head lifted. He raised his body, bracing his weight on his arms, and watched as his cock plunged past her plump nether lips.
Her pale thighs trembled.
He withdrew. Drove back into her snug sex.
Felt the creamy clasp of her body from his cock’s root to tip.
She came, clenching around him, breathing out his name.
Another thrust. Another slow, deep drive into her body.
It would never be this good again.
When he climaxed, he didn’t speak her name.
But his soul did.
He was gone.
Serena knew that Luis had left her even before she opened her eyes. There was a coldness, an emptiness, in the room. In the bed.
Steeling herself, she opened her eyes. The bright light of the afternoon sun filled the room.
The imprint of Luis’s head was still on her pillow, but her cazador was gone.
A long-stemmed red rose lay in his place.
She reached for the flower and lifted it to her nose. The soft petals brushed against her skin.
Such a sweet smell.
Such a fucking painful good-bye.
He did his job. He saved you. The coven. He had to go back to his life.
Her fingers clenched around the rose. A thorn pierced her thumb, drawing blood.
He hadn’t even said good-bye. Hadn’t even asked if she might want him to stay…or if she might want to go with him.
“Because he’s a damn cazador,” she muttered, dropping the rose and glaring at the flower. It was either glare or cry, and she was not going to cry. “He has to fight the world. He doesn’t have time to spend his days with a witch.”
But she would have liked to have spent her days and nights with him.
Dammit. She hadn’t bargained on falling for him.
Not for a second.
He wasn’t supposed to be a man that she could love. He was supposed to have been the worst kind of monster.
Not the perfect mate.
She inhaled, catching the scent of the rose, sex, and…him.
“No.” Serena shook her head. No, she’d just been through hell. She wasn’t going to skulk away now and let her dreams die.
Because she’d realized when that third binding mark bit into her skin that she did have dreams. Dreams of a home, of a man who loved her.
Dreams of Luis.
Too late. She should have told him how she felt, not that crap about caring, but how she really felt.
There had to be a way. Something she could do.
She’d fought the warlock.
She was sure as hell going to fight for love.
What could she do—
Her mother’s voice whispered in her ear, “The cazador, he comes after witches when they’re bad.”
A smile twisted her lips as inspiration filled her. “Time to get bad.”
Midnight on All Hallow’s Eve. The witching hour, as some called it.
The perfect time for her.
Serena pulled out her athame and carefully cast a circle in the dirt. A small tremble shook her hand as she gripped the knife, remembering the last time she’d held such a weapon.
But the athame—it shouldn’t have been a weapon. It was meant for magic, not pain and death.
There had been no choice.
Serena exhaled and then bent to light her candles. The wind was still this night. No leaves fluttered in the breeze. As if the air itself were waiting…
Just as she had waited. Too many hours.
The circle was cast. The words of the spell poured from her. Magic blazed in her heart.
“I summoned you once,” she whispered, “and I’ll do it again.”
Luis gazed down into his tequila and realized that if he tried hard enough, he could see Serena’s reflection in the gleaming liquid.
His beautiful witch.
He’d kissed her before he left. Pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and conjured her a rose.
Leaving without a word had seemed to be the right choice. Because if he’d stayed and seen her when she woke, he would have broken down…and begged her to stay with him. Not for a few days. Forever.
Forever was a very, very long time for him.
Behind him, two coyote shifters snarled over a pool table. He didn’t spare them a glance. He was far too focused on memories of his witch.
Would she have considered staying with him? Tying her soul to his so that she could share his life?
No.
Shit. Had he really been arrogant enough to think that he could force her into his life? Back at the beginning, for a wild moment, he had. He’d taken one look at her, fallen as hard and fast as his father had for his mother all those centuries before, and he’d thought, simply—
Mine.
But no matter how much he craved her, he couldn’t force her into his world.
He brought the glass to his lips. Drained the fiery liquid in one swallow.
A soul bond with someone like him—that was no easy undertaking. Serena would have been forced to give up her home. Her coven. His witch deserved happiness, and she wouldn’t find that battling demons every day of her life.
She deserved more. So much more.
So he’d given her the only gift that he could.
He’d walked away to let her live a real life with someone else.
Some utterly lucky asshole who would never, ever deserve her and—
The air began to swirl around him. A small tornado that separated him from the others.
Luis stilled. This had happened before. Actually, just seconds before Serena had—
He disappeared and his empty glass fell to the floor, shattering.
He didn’t look pissed.
Serena slowly lowered her arms and gazed at Luis’s face. Such a handsome face, really. Not hard at all. Strong. Determined.
Perfect.
His eyes narrowed. He stepped out of her circle. “You can’t keep playing with dark magic.”
“I’m not playing.” The whispers in her mind as she’d performed the spell had been louder this time—but she hadn’t been the least bit tempted by their lures.
She’d done the spell for one reason. Love. The dark powers in this world—and the next—couldn’t touch that.
“W
hy, Serena?” Stark. “Why risk the danger?”
“Why did you leave me without a good-bye?” The rose was on the ground near his left foot. Another part of her spell.
“To spare you.” He lifted his right hand, and she saw his claws. His left, and she saw a ball of flames. “Tell me, witch, did you really want to wake to this in your bed every day?”
No hesitation. Besides, she now understood that he’d know when she lied. “Yes.”
His nostrils flared.
“That was a truth, wasn’t it, cazador?”
His head jerked.
“Want to hear a few more?”
He didn’t move.
“I didn’t expect you—oh, I knew I was getting the big, bad, cazador—but I didn’t expect you. You touched me, and I hungered. Pleasured me, and I wanted more. You held me—” By the blood, she was stripping her pride bare before him, but she wasn’t letting him go without a fight! “And I wanted to stay in your arms forever.”
Truth. She saw the knowledge in his eyes.
“I told you I cared, and that was a lie.”
So easy to see the lies now. Waking up alone with hope gone had a tendency to make things crystal clear for a witch.
Or any woman.
“My body aches for you and so does…shit! So does my heart, Luis. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you to come into my life for years, and I didn’t even know it until I woke up without you.” She sounded sappy, and she wasn’t the sappy type.
She was the desperate type. “If you don’t want me, tell me. I’m a big girl. I can take it.” Yeah, it would hurt like hell, and she’d miss him for the rest of her days, but she wouldn’t stop him from leaving her. “But do not just walk away, without telling me good-bye. Give me that much and—”
And Luis had her in his arms, his hold too tight. “I can’t walk away again. I won’t.”
Truth, even she could sense that.
“I need you, witch. More than I need the night. More than breath. More than magic.”
Oh, hell, her knees went weak.
“I left you once, because I didn’t want to force you into my world.” He drew in a ragged breath. “Because if I think you’re mine, if I claim you and cross that line, I’ll never let you go and—”
“I am yours.” Her mother had told her once that souls recognized their mates. Luis was the mate of her soul. “I’ve been from the beginning.” Understanding had just taken some time.
“If I bind us,” he whispered, “there will be no going back, don’t you see that? I’ll lock you to me, forever. Chain your soul to mine—”
“Cazador, it already is.” That wrenching emptiness she’d felt upon waking—her soul had missed his.
No more. The binding he spoke of—it wasn’t something she feared. No loss of powers, only a joining of spirits.
“Tell me, Luis, tell me how you feel—”
“I feel like you’re my world. My damn world.”
She didn’t try to stop the smile that stretched across her face. “Then I think you’re going to be stuck with me.”
“Sweetheart, forever is a very long time for me—for us—if I bind our souls—”
“Good.” She’d never sought immortality and, had forever not promised her life with Luis, well, she probably never would have chosen it. But as long as she had him…“Then I’ll fight by your side. Love by your side. My magic’s back and I can help you. We can make this world better—”
“You already have.” He kissed her, the touch of his lips so sweet that she nearly cried out. “You already have.”
Air swirled around them. Magic warmed the night.
“Luis?”
“Hold onto me, witch. This ride might get rough…”
She laughed and held on tighter. “Just the kind of ride that I like.”
He kissed her again and the power bloomed between them.
Serena realized that her mother had been right, about so many things. If only she’d gotten the chance to tell her so.
Souls did touch others in this world. They looked for their mates.
The big, bad monsters that waited in the dark—they did come after the bad witches.
And sometimes, well, sometimes, it was just good to be a little bit bad…
And under love’s sweet and sexy spell.
TURN ME ON
Noelle Mack
1
“SpectraSign,” the receptionist said automatically, continuing to type as she talked into the microphone of a headset. “Our creative concepts light up your—whoops, I have to put you on hold for a sec, okay?”
Beth Danforth, who was waiting to be interviewed, watched as the receptionist corrected something on the computer screen, saved it with a tap on the keyboard, and punched the flashing hold button on the phone console, multitasking for all she was worth.
“Sorry about that,” the receptionist was saying. “Of course you don’t want your whoops to light up. Yes, sir. I can hear how upset you are.” She listened to whoever was screaming at her for another minute. Beth, who was sitting on a padded bench not far away from the reception desk, heard a threat to have the receptionist fired come through loud and clear, peppered with curse words.
It was a weird world and getting weirder every day. Nobody could wait five seconds anymore without tempers being lost and rank being pulled.
“Of course, sir,” the receptionist said politely. “Yes. Let me transfer your call.” She punched a glowing button on a brushed-aluminum console and the faint yelling stopped. “You are now in voicemail hell, sir,” she said to the air and took off her headset.
Then she swiveled in her chair, away from the console and her monitor, to face Beth Danforth. “Justin’s expecting you,” the receptionist said. “Go on in. First door you come to.”
Beth stood up and looked into the corridor that led away from the reception area, seeing only seamless walls. She opened her mouth to ask where the door was, but the other woman seemed to have read her mind.
The receptionist winked. “Trust me, there is a door, but it’s closed. Right that way.” She pointed with a candy-striped pen that she took out of the straggly but pretty arrangement of cobalt-blue hair piled high on her head. Beth would not go so far as to call the arrangement a bun. There were several other items stuck into the blue hair: a painted butterfly trembling on a spring, a striped feather, and what seemed to be a pair of chopsticks.
“Okay. Thanks very much.” Beth picked up the laptop, her presentation for the interview safely snuggled inside its hard drive, and headed right that way, wondering a little.
The CEO was referred to as just…Justin? Not Mr. Watts? Looked like SpectraSign was a really laid-back place, even by the freewheeling standards of ad agencies and graphic design companies.
She’d already gotten out of the elevator and gotten lost on the floor below before she made her way up here for her interview. The company was bigger than she’d thought. Judging by the drop-dead funky decor and buzz of activity, it was on the cutting edge of its very competitive field. The receptionist returned to whatever she’d been doing again. In back of her, Beth could hear fingertips clicking lightly on the keyboard. The receptionist answered an internal ring on the phone console and Beth heard her talk to someone she assumed was Justin Watts. “She should be at your door in a second. Uh-huh. Yes, the Times Square pedestrian pattern report’s almost done.”
There was a door with a recessed latch at the end of the long, white, sun-filled corridor, but it was invisible until you stood in front of it. Beth reached out a finger and traced a few inches of the infinitesimally thin crack that separated the door from the wall. Even with that light pressure, she could feel a hum coming from inside, an electronic kind of hum.
Computers, probably. Lots of them.
She wondered what Justin Watts looked like, mentally running through the possibilities at warp speed. Tall or short? Lean or chunky? Cute or not? Cool cat or dirty dawg?
Beth took a calming breath, told herse
lf she could ace this, added a silent rah-rah and threw in a couple of Hail Marys as a nod to her Catholic grandmother. For good measure, she summoned up her comic-book alter ego, Graphic Design Girl, who could rock a website and simplify a layout in a single bound. She was good at what she did, even if she was starting from scratch all over again, beginning with this interview.
Visionary, her former employer, had closed up shop two months ago, leaving nothing behind in their downtown loft but crumpled sandwich bags and broadband wiring sprouting from a lot of holes in the drywall.
She had brushed up her resumé, posted it every place she could, and hit the hiring trail immediately. So far, no takers. Unfortunately, no one, whether they were in corporate HR or an independent client, seemed to care one way or another about the way her creativity had been praised to the skies. By her friends. On their arty blogs. There were not enough adjectives to describe her talent, according to them. Her marketing concepts had been touted as unique, outstanding, and fantastic.
It was just too bad that Visionary, the video game company whose national advertising she’d created, had tanked so fast. The two geek gods who’d founded the company, college pals whose entire wardrobe consisted of sweatpants and funny, funny T-shirts, had burned through a million dollars of start-up capital and gone back to live with their parents.
Shortly after her search for meaningful employment began, Beth had hustled up a few freelance jobs—one for table lamps, one for pickled beets, one for kitty litter—and given each her all, but the money, at least for the first two, was almost gone. Number three, the kitty litter account, had gone up in smoke when the Whizzy Whizkers king ran off to Boca Raton with his mistress and cleaned out the company account. So the company check had bounced, boing boing, and her bank had socked her with a $35 fee just for letting her know. Nice of them.
No, freelancing wasn’t going to cut it. She needed a steady job and she needed health insurance and she needed to pay the exorbitant rent on her dreary little studio apartment in lower Manhattan.
So far, there hadn’t been one response to her posts, except from SpectraSign. Would she fit in here? The voice who’d called her cell and made the appointment for today belonged to the receptionist she’d just met, who seemed nice enough, but not like the kind of person who was easily wowed. Beth had no idea what anyone at SpectraSign thought of her credentials and she hadn’t been able to find out too much about the company or its CEO. Justin Watts didn’t even have a picture on Google Images.
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