That he hadn’t tried anything made her wary, but it was his equable expression that made her truly suspicious. She might not be an expert on mortals, but she had enough experience to know his abrupt switch in moods was downright suspect. What was he up to? Unfortunately, the only way to find out was to ask, and she doubted he’d tell her the truth. She was just going to have to go along with him for now and see what happened.
“Here’s your crutch,” she said, walking toward him.
“Thank you,” he said when she reached him and extended the mop. He immediately slipped it under his arm. After taking an experimental step, he glanced up at her and smiled. “I’m sorry I was so rude earlier.”
“Yes, well, I suppose I should also apologize,” she replied, still wary of his sudden change of demeanor, though she had to admit that she liked his smile. It was wide and generous and conjured up a host of delicious little fantasies about his lips. She forced her gaze from his mouth to his eyes, knowing that now was not the time to be indulging in fantasies. “I was a bit rude myself.”
“Only because I provoked you,” he refuted. “As you said, you were only trying to help me.”
Not sure how to respond, she glanced down at his leg and asked, “How’s your knee?”
“It hurts like hell,” he admitted.
“It would hurt less if you’d lie down.”
“You’re right, of course, but before I do that, I need to make a call.”
Shana jerked her head up and frowned at him. “A call?”
“Yes. You do have a telephone, don’t you?”
She considered saying no, but under coven law, the only time lying was acceptable was if it was necessary to protect the coven from harm. Since she didn’t know whom he wanted to call or why, she couldn’t make that determination.
“It’s not going to cost you anything, Shana. It’s a toll-free call.”
It was the first time he’d called her by name, and every inner alarm she possessed went off. “It’s the middle of the night, Ryan. Don’t you think it would be better if you waited until morning?”
A brief flash of frustration lit his eyes. It came and went so quickly, however, that if she hadn’t been watching for some sign of deceit, she would have missed it.
“No, it can’t wait until morning,” he replied, an edge creeping into his voice. He must have heard it, too, because he paused for a moment, and the edge was gone when he concluded, “I need to make this call now.”
“Whom do you want to call?”
“The auto club.”
“The auto club?” When he nodded, she shook her head in confusion. “Why would you want to call the automobile club in the middle of the night?”
“I need to arrange for them to pick up my bike.”
“I still don’t see why it can’t wait until morning.”
“I don’t want to take a chance that someone will steal my bike.”
“I already told you that people don’t steal in Sanctuary.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “Maybe they don’t, but for my own peace of mind, I want my bike taken care of. Now, are you going to let me use your phone?”
Shana gnawed on her bottom lip uncertainly. The purpose of his call sounded innocent enough, but her intuition said there was more going on than he’d revealed.
Suddenly, he shifted on his makeshift crutch. Automatically, Shana glanced down, and when she did, her eyes widened in disbelief. The Tarot card of The Moon was lying at his feet. Since it was lying sideways, she couldn’t determine what position it was supposed to be in.
When she saw the faint outline of a footprint across the card, she shook her head, not wanting to accept the implications but unable to deny them. If Ryan had been standing on the card, then it had to have been there for a while. That could only mean that Moira had delivered it to him, and by doing so, she was letting Shana know that he was under her psychic influence.
But did that mean Moira had spellbound him? The only way to find out was to touch his mind, and now she understood that was extremely dangerous.
“Do you know where that came from?” she asked him, pointing at the card.
He glanced down and then hopped backward so fast that if Shana hadn’t moved quickly to his side, he would have fallen.
As she tried to help him regain his balance, he jerked his arm away from her and bellowed, “Don’t touch me!”
Shana instantly released him. As he steadied himself, he glared down at the card. When he finally glanced up at her, his voice was as low and as sibilant as a whiplash as he rasped, “Get that filthy thing away from me!”
She was so stunned by his violent reaction to the card that she automatically bent and picked it up. As she tucked it into her back pocket, she covertly glanced toward the bed, reaffirming that The Star was still lying on the pillow. Sensing that if he saw it, he’d become even more agitated, she mentally chanted an incantation. The card disappeared, and a moment later she felt it settling into her pocket with the other cards she’d gathered tonight.
Turning her attention to Ryan, she said, “I’m sorry if the card upset you, but I need to know where it came from.”
The glare he centered on her was so full of malice that it made her shiver. “You know damn well where it came from. You dropped it in my lap right after I fell.”
“I didn’t drop the card in your lap, Ryan,” she denied, her stomach knotting at his response. She’d been right. Moira had delivered it to him. “But I need to know if it was right side up or upside down when you got it.”
“I don’t want to talk about a damn Tarot card,” he snapped. “What I want to do is use the telephone!”
“If you’ll answer my question, I’ll take you to the telephone. Now, please, Ryan, this is very important. When you got the card was it right side up or upside down?”
He clenched his jaw and unclenched it before he said, “Right side up. Now, take me to the telephone.”
Shana nodded, too upset to speak. In the upright position The Moon not only meant psychic influence, but unforeseen perils and deception. But did those warnings apply to Moira, or was it telling Shana that she couldn’t trust Ryan?
Unfortunately, she knew that only time would give her the answer, because each card alone didn’t really tell her anything. It was the connection between the cards that told the real story. Only when Moira had given her all the cards and she could look at the spread in its entirety would she be able to do an accurate reading.
With a resigned sigh, she said, “The telephone’s this way.”
Chapter Five
The Wheel of Fortune Card (Reversed)
A Turn for the Worse
AS RYAN FOLLOWED Shana out of the bedroom and down a long, dimly lit hallway, he decided that she could make a fortune renting her house to horror film directors. The walls were made of stone and there were no windows. It was also uncommonly quiet, which enhanced the gloomy atmosphere. Indeed, the only noise he heard was the thump of the mop handle and his own shuffled footsteps against the hardwood floor. He could not even hear Shana. She moved so quietly that if he hadn’t been looking at her back, he would not have known she was there. The sensetion unsettled him.
Her family crest is probably the same as Count Dracula’s, he silently grumbled.
When they reached the end of the corridor, she turned down another hallway. Minutes later, she entered a room on the left and switched on a light. As Ryan entered, he arched a brow. They were in the kitchen. The entire room, as well as the cabinets, was painted white and trimmed in blue. The major appliances included everything from an upright freezer to a microwave oven. There was a butcher block island, with open shelves below it, which housed every type of small appliance imaginable.
Taking in the rest of the room, he noted that instead of a table and chairs, there
was a white, triangular-shaped booth built into a corner. There were also a half-dozen garden windows filled with plants, many of which he suspected were herbs.
He wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the kitchen’s modernity. In part, because it was in such contrast to the rest of the house. Primarily, however, it was because when he looked at Shana, cooking was the last thing to come to mind, and obviously this room belonged to a gourmet cook.
“The telephone’s over there,” she told him, gesturing toward a wall phone by the booth. It was also white and blended in so well with the wall that if she hadn’t pointed it out, he probably wouldn’t have seen it. He was also surprised about it being a wall phone as opposed to a cell. He never carried one anymore, but everyone else in the world did . . . well, besides Shana, it seemed.
He moved toward it, carefully testing the mop handle’s stability before each step. The white linoleum was so highly polished it sparkled, and he didn’t want to slip and fall when he was only a phone call away from getting out of here.
When he arrived at the phone, he pulled out his wallet and retrieved his auto club membership card. Then he lifted the telephone receiver and dialed the number. When it was answered on the other end, he frowned. Instead of reaching a person, he’d gotten one of those maddening computer messages that gave a half-dozen obscure options. Finally, he heard a choice that sounded like what he wanted, and he pushed the button. When he got another message saying all the operators were busy and he should remain on the line. He mumbled a curse. How was he supposed to get out of here if he couldn’t even get a person on the line?
He didn’t realize Shana had joined him, and he started when she asked “Is there a problem?”
“I’m on hold,” he answered, turning his head toward her.
As their eyes met, desire hit him with such unexpected force that he could barely breathe. Shaken by how easily she could rouse his lust, he tried to excuse his reaction as a healthy libido responding to a beautiful woman. He knew, however, that there was nothing healthy about his response to her. It was primitive and dark. She could become a dangerous obsession.
He tried to look away from her, but his gaze automatically drifted to her chest. Her T-shirt clung to her full breasts, reminding him that she was braless. As he stared at the faint outline of her nipples, his pulse began to pound. He wanted to touch them, to coax them into aroused life, and then he would . . .
“Ryan, are you ill?” Shana asked worriedly, interrupting his fantasy.
“Mm?” he murmured, reluctantly dragging his gaze toward her face. When it landed on her lips, he could only stare at them in awe. They were so perfectly formed, so soft and alluring. What would it be like to kiss them?
“Ryan, what’s wrong?” she demanded, sounding even more concerned.
He knew he should answer her, but as he watched her lips form his name, he couldn’t stop himself from touching them with his fingertips. At the contact, she let out a tiny, feminine gasp of pleasure that was so seductive he felt it all the way to his groin.
Leaning back against the edge of the booth, he propped his arm on top of the mop. Then slowly, deliberately, he traced the contours of her lips with the tip of his fingernail. When he finished, he smoothed the pad of his finger across them, mesmerized by the feel of their warmth and their firmness, their softness, and their suppleness.
Vaguely, he heard a disembodied voice speaking in his ear. Before he could focus on it, the tip of Shana’s tongue crept from between her lips and stroked his fingertip. At the action, he released a guttural groan and reached for her, ignoring the clatter of both the telephone receiver and the mop as he released them. He didn’t want to think about anything but holding her in his arms. He had to taste her lips and explore the secrets of her mouth. He had to lay claim to her.
Grasping her upper arms, he hauled her up against him and sealed his mouth over hers. Her lips immediately parted, and he thrust his tongue between them. Although every nerve in his body was urging him to hurry, he explored the damp warmth of her mouth with the same slow deliberation that he’d traced her lips. It was like drowning in rich, dark honey, he decided as his tongue began to mimic a more intimate pursuit that made his penis pulse in eager approval.
Touch me! Shana suddenly cried, pressing her body against his so that they were molded together from chest to knee. Let me show you what your touch does to me.
Ryan knew she hadn’t spoken, but he wasn’t surprised to hear her demands in his mind. Their passion was too profound to be voiced aloud. He dropped his hands to her waist and slid them beneath her T-shirt.
As he stroked his hands up her sides toward her breasts, he was overwhelmed by a dichotomy of sensations. Her skin was soft against his palms, and her muscles quivered as he moved upward. He felt the passionate rush of anticipation that raced through her as she waited for him to reach his goal.
When he arrived at the bottoms of her breasts and cradled their weight in his palms, she drew in a ragged breath. He felt the soft scrape of her T-shirt against her nipples—felt them begin to harden from both the grazing of the fabric and her craving for his own touch. Her need was so strong, so palpable, that his hands were trembling as he stroked his thumbs upward so that they brushed her nipples.
Immediately, they sprang to erectness, and as the impact of his caress resonated low in her abdomen, he closed his eyes. The feeling was indescribably beautiful, and yet it was almost painful in its force. He also recognized that it wasn’t a localized need like his. It was a consuming yearning that radiated from her womb to her mind. At that moment, he understood that physical release would not be enough to please her. To give her complete satisfaction, he also would have to join with her soul.
As the revelation swept over him, she ordered, Look at me.
His eyes instantly flew open, and he found himself gazing into hers. They had again taken on an almost blinding luminescent glow, and she mentally whispered, Now you’ve found Sanctuary. Your journey is at its end.
Her declaration was like a douse of ice water, snapping him back to reality. Pushing her away from him, he yelled, “What the hell do you think you’re trying to pull? Just get away from me and stay away from me!”
She blinked, and the glow in her eyes disappeared. Then she gave him a confused frown. “What’s wrong?”
“You know damn good and well what’s wrong,” he snapped, glancing toward the wall. The telephone receiver was dangling from the cord, and its shrill beeping told him that he’d been disconnected.
With a violent curse, he grabbed the cord and pulled it up until the receiver was in his hands. Then he reached over and pressed down the button on the phone.
“This is the second time you’ve somehow managed to get me into a compromising position,” he told her. “I don’t know what your game is, but stop playing it with me! I am not interested in having a fling with a . . . a . . .”
“A witch,” she provided. “And I did not have you in a compromising position, Ryan. I was trying to help you. You were ill. I think you may have even lost consciousness for a moment.”
He released the button and began to redial as he rasped, “The hell I did! Damnit! What did you do to the phone?”
“I didn’t do anything to the phone.”
“Then why is it dead?” he countered, so furious he wanted to grab her and shake her. He refrained, because he sensed that if he touched her, he might lose complete control. The problem was, he wasn’t sure if he’d strangle her or throw her to the floor and make love to her.
“That’s what that seduction scene was all about, wasn’t it?” he angrily accused. “While you distracted me, you did something to the phone so I couldn’t arrange for the auto club to pick me up and get me the hell out of here.”
“You were going to leave with them?” she gasped.
“Of course I was going to leave with them. Why
did you think I was calling them?”
“You told me you were going to have them pick up your motorcycle,” she said, propping her hands on her hips and giving him an affronted look. “You lied to me!”
“I did not lie to you,” he snapped. “I was—am—going to have them pick up my motorcycle. I figured you were smart enough to realize I was—am—also going to leave with them. And why the hell am I explaining myself? You did know, or you wouldn’t have broken the damn phone!”
“I didn’t know you were leaving, and I didn’t break the phone.”
“Well, you sure as hell did something to it, and I want you to fix it right now!”
She stared at him for a long moment, and then she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ryan, but I won’t make the phone operational. If I do, you’ll try to leave, and I can’t let you do that.”
He regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I thought you said that if I wanted to leave, you couldn’t stop me.”
She gave an uneasy shrug. “I can’t stop you, but there’s nothing that says I have to help you.”
“So you’re going to keep me here against my will? Why, lady? Because you’re horny and need a stud?” he drawled disparagingly. “If that’s your plan, forget it, because I do not perform under captive conditions.”
“I am not trying to keep you here for sex!” she declared in exasperation. “What I am trying to do is divert disaster, and that’s exactly what we’re going to be facing if you try to leave. I know you don’t understand what is going on, and if you’ll sit down and let me explain—”
“I don’t want explanations! What I want is to get the hell out of here.”
“But Moira isn’t going to let you leave, Ryan. That’s why she made the phone malfunction.”
“Who the hell is Moira?” he asked in angry perplexity.
“I explained that to you already. She’s a spirit-witch.”
Touch of Magic Page 8