Magick Marked (The DarqRealm Series)

by Baughman, Chauntelle

  Eldon motioned toward the chair. “Please, sit down.”

  She drifted over and sat, eyeing him as he made his way around the small round table to sit across from her. Good choice. Farther away was better.

  “I’m only talking to you right now because you’re a paying client,” he said.

  Like she came here because she wanted to? “Well, isn’t that considerate of you?”

  “I like to think so.” The chair creaked as he leaned back, sweeping his arm in invitation. Right. Time to talk.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m here because you have some explaining to do.”

  A dark brow arched. “Do I?”

  “Your little vocal spell and your blood box spell. I paid you five thousand dollars for those, and they didn’t work. Now I’m in deep shit with the Lamia King because the relic those spells were supposed to protect is missing. Explain to me how that happened.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “The spells you purchased were fine. I tested them myself before I gave them to you.”

  She linked her arms across her chest. “Bullshit.”

  Eldon shrugged, the small motion dismissing her concerns.

  Which only pissed her off more. “Well, then explain how the hell my stuff is missing. Because I’d hate to think you’re a thief.”

  Flames sparked in his eyes as they narrowed. “Don’t make accusations you can’t back up, vampire.”

  “Then tell me how it happened.”

  His large biceps flexed as he folded them across his chest, matching her stance. “First, tell me exactly what happened.”

  She explained in detail precisely what transpired the night before. The mechanical lock. The blood box. The vocal spell.

  She pointed a finger at him, the memory fresh in her mind. “You told me the relic would be protected. You told me I could trust you with this, and I paid you a pretty penny for absolutely nothing. And now I’m being sent on a suicide mission to get it back.”

  His icy stare answered her in challenge, but his voice remained steady. “I don’t lie, and I didn’t promise anything. Those spells were manufactured using old magick. It’s simply not possible.” He rose from his chair and glanced down at her.

  Wait, was he dismissing her? Oh, hell no.

  She stood, the chair sliding beneath her with the movement. “I’m not arguing with you about this and I’m not leaving without some answers. It isn’t a debate. I’m telling you someone came into my house and stole my shit. It’s not a theory, it’s a fact.”

  Rho summoned her fiercest glare. Eldon didn’t blink. Instead, he raked his eyes along the length of her body, sizing her up with a thoroughness that left her tingling in every place they landed.

  After a few seconds of slow scrutiny, he shook his head. “Not possible.”

  Her fangs began their descent as her control faltered. The flaming scarlet of her irises wouldn’t be far behind. Intense emotions usually triggered the predator lurking inside her. Right now, anger fit the bill. She absolutely refused to acknowledge the light sprinkling of lust.

  Surprise eclipsed Eldon’s thoughtful expression for a brief moment before he hid beneath a mask of cool-calm-and-collected, and she knew her gaze had taken a turn for the crimson.

  Uh oh, I pissed off a vampire.

  She froze, staring at him. She hadn’t seen his lips move. And she hadn’t heard him say those words aloud. But she had heard them…

  “What did you do?” Somehow he’d gotten inside of her head.

  He wrinkled his brow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard you.”

  “Heard me when?”

  I heard you in my head! she shouted, this time yelling into his mind.

  He staggered back, as if someone had struck him across the face. “What was that?”

  Thoughts swirled around Rho’s mind as she stared up at him. You’re in my head! What kind of witchcraft is this?

  Her mind reeled, a wave of violation threatening to knock her off her feet. God, it felt like he was everywhere, the warmth of his mind completely intertwined with hers, every thought invaded with his presence.

  He tilted his head, expression pensive. Hello?

  She closed her eyes, trying to maintain her composure despite the unexplainable breach. Why are you in my head?

  Test, one, two, three.

  Damn it, I’m a person, not a microphone, Eldon! What is going on?

  He paused. I don’t know.

  She pivoted on a heel and paced over to the window. “I need a minute.” If she didn’t get her anger under control, she’d eat him for dinner. She sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly, counting to ten. The oxygen wasn’t necessary, but the action helped a little.

  Finally, her fangs retreated. She hoped her eyes had returned to normal as she turned to face Eldon.

  He hadn’t moved. His frown and focused eyes told her he was lost in his thoughts. She tried to speak into his mind again, but the connection evaporated.

  Can you still hear me? she asked into his mind. No response.

  “Can you still hear me?” she asked aloud.

  Not bothering to look up, he shook his head no.

  Rubbing her temples, she moved to sit back in the chair. The silence filled the space between them as they both remained motionless.

  “What the hell was that?” she muttered.

  “I have no idea. Magick movers can’t be telepaths.”

  “Well, clearly they can.”

  He combed his fingers through his thick, coffee-colored tufts and shrugged. “It’s never happened before. We don’t have telepathic gifts.”

  Maybe magick movers couldn’t be telepaths, but vampires sure could. The telepathic abilities of the vampires were well-known, but they had their restrictions. She could only think of two ways telepathic connections were established.

  The first was the simplest, the bond between the maker and the made. She had a connection to Frederick because he’d created her.

  The second… no, there was no way that could be true. The only other way for a connection like this to form was if two people were soul struck. They had to be vampires for that to apply, right? Shit.

  He still wouldn’t meet her eyes, and somehow the loss of that crystal gaze made her feel… sad. She shoved the unjustified sense of loss aside, telling herself there was no way she’d been struck. Couldn’t have been. Eldon wasn’t a vampire.

  This was a freak accident. It would probably never happen again. Somehow, between her attraction and her anger, they’d fused some strange, impossible connection. And as quickly as it had come, it left.

  Rho blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You know what? I don’t have time for this right now.” Her purse lay on the floor near her chair. She leaned over and retrieved it.

  His eyes snapped up to hers, the connection filling the emptiness instantly. “You can’t just forge a mental tie with me and walk off.”

  She rose from her chair. “Like hell I can’t.”

  He snatched her hand. “Like hell you can.” The touch didn’t burn this time but sent shockwaves of warmth through her arm. The intimacy of his unexpected hold sent her mind reeling, the lust in her mental kettle reaching a boiling point.

  “Don’t touch me.” She ground the words out through clenched teeth.

  “My house, my rules.” He leaned closer. Too close. “And if I remember correctly, you touched me first.”

  She jerked her hand away and spun toward the door.

  “You said you were going on a suicide mission,” Eldon said quickly. “What does that mean?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she said over her shoulder, marching through the doorway.

 
“Where are you going?” he demanded.

  “Again, none of your business.” Far, far away from here. She needed to leave this room. Now.

  “I meant tomorrow.” He followed her down the hallway, keeping at her heels. What was with this sudden interest in where she was going? Last time she checked, vamps and magick movers weren’t exactly friends.

  “I can’t tell you.” She didn’t look back at him as she flung open the front door.

  “And why not?”

  “Because the king forbade it.”

  Rummaging in her purse, she found the keys and clicked the button to unlock her Porsche as she marched along the cobblestone walkway. His footsteps fell close behind her.

  She swiveled and collided with a thick wall of muscle. She peered up at him, suddenly feeling tiny despite her supermodel altitude. God, he was tall.

  “Just so you know.” She squared her shoulders. “Since I’m fairly confident you don’t like me being here, I won’t be back to bug you again. I only came here to see if you had anything to do with the relic’s disappearance.”

  “And your verdict?” The weight of his stare anchored her in place.

  She shrugged, trying to downplay his effect on her. “I don’t think so.”

  “We will discuss this… incident.”

  She opened the car door and threw her purse inside. “There’s nothing to discuss. Some mental wires got crossed or something. That’s it.” She slid across the leather and settled into the seat.

  His lean body blocked her access to the door. The smell and nearness of him verged on overwhelming, her lust screaming in frustration as she shut the mental door and locked the imaginary key. She’d never had a reaction to a man like this before.

  He put his hand on top of the car and peered inside. “This conversation isn’t over.”

  She turned over the ignition, and the engine roared to life. He stepped to the side, smug confidence reading clearly on his face.

  Scowling, she reached gracelessly around him and grabbed the handle. “Oh, this conversation is absolutely over.”

  She slammed the door shut, his beautiful face fixed on her from the other side of the tinted glass. The Porsche practically flew out of the driveway. But something told her he was right.

  Chapter Five

  Zipping down Highway 71, Rho flicked the blinker and veered onto the exit toward downtown. She pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand and steered with the other, trying to bring her mind back into focus.

  What. The. Hell.

  Maybe shoving Eldon into the front door had been a mistake. Could that touch have caused this weird new connection? Like some strange, magickal, ley line brain fusion? No, that was ridiculous. But what else would explain it?

  The connection wasn’t there anymore, but the warmth of his presence tingled in her subconscious. And no matter how many times she tried to kick him out of her mind, those shocking blue eyes boomeranged back into the front of her brain.

  “Dammit,” she muttered, annoyed she’d let him get under her skin. Not that she’d mind getting under his… “Dammit!” She slammed a fist against the steering wheel. Seriously not what she needed to be thinking about right now.

  She’d promised Frederick she’d feed and she intended to keep that promise, but there were a few extra items on her agenda this evening. Like doing a little research to find out where her Kamen had disappeared to and how exactly someone had managed to sneak into her coven undetected.

  No doubt Frederick would be pissed if he knew her alternative plans for the evening, most especially her decision to go at it alone. Sure, the king had made it clear that she was supposed to be meeting up with a team, but this was personal. If she didn’t get this Kamen back, she would forfeit her life. And she was not going to trust anyone else to ensure that didn’t happen.

  She shook her head. Tonight she’d get some answers. Someone in the DarqRealm had to know who had taken that Kamen, and she suspected it was someone who knew a thing or two about magick. Maybe even more than Eldon, and he was supposedly one of the strongest movers in the south.

  Yet for some reason, she knew instinctively that he didn’t do it. His disbelief had been sincere when she’d told him they’d gone missing. But who else could break into a cavern full of vampires undetected?

  The situation defied all logic. The caverns were heavily guarded. She’d secured the rock with multiple forms of magickal and mechanical protection to keep it safely hidden. And yet, someone had still managed to take it right out from under her nose.

  If Eldon was as great a magick mover as the Council had rumored him to be, then his magick should’ve been strong. Certainly strong enough to keep a weaker mover from breaking any spells. Unless… old magick was involved. She’d heard that old magick held more power than the newer spells. Maybe she could find someone who knew a thing or two about the ancient craft?

  Pain shot through her stomach, distracting her from her thoughts as it churned in discontent. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

  Checking in with her mental calendar, she reviewed the past week. Three days. She hadn’t eaten for three days, which was definitely at the higher end of her tolerance. Older vampires could live for weeks without feeding, but three days was damn good for a two-year-old. No wonder she was so hungry.

  She glanced down at the clock on the dash. Just past eleven. Plenty of time to snag a little dinner after her research.

  Slowing down to peruse the rapidly filling pay-to-park areas, she pulled into the lot closest to the drag. An old man waddled to her car, and she rolled down the window. His breath hit her, a combination of vodka and cigarettes marching into her sinuses and taking a seat. The stink filled her car as he moved closer, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

  “That’ll be ten dollars, ma’am.” The parking attendant looked at her expectantly. Ten dollars? For a freaking parking space? Ridiculous.

  She dangled a crisp ten dollar bill out the window. As he took a step toward her, she met his eyes. “Come here, sweetheart.”

  He obeyed, lowering his head into the window. She lifted a finger to stroke his cheek then touched the center of his forehead.

  A familiar tint of red flooded her vision. The man was weak, cracking under the weight of her mind control. His glazed expression tattled his condition. He was enthralled.

  “I’m going to park right under that light. You are going to watch my car until I return and make sure nothing bad happens to her.” Her Porsche had been flawlessly maintained, and she wasn’t about to let some drunken asshole ding the door panels.

  He pointed to the spot, and she slid right in. Depressing the button on the side of the seat, she floated back as far as it would take her and kicked off her shoes, replacing them with gold, sparkly pumps. To get into bars for free on Sixth Street, she’d need to dress like a slut bunny.

  And she refused to pay cover charge on principle.

  Unzipping her sweater, she shrugged it off and threw it on the passenger seat. The black halter revealed exactly what Victoria was keeping secret. Breasts lifted and shifted, tats in full view, she glanced down at the colorful sleeves woven into her flesh.

  Sixth Street liberated her. Austin thrived on music and hippies and artists. No one gawked or judged her here when they saw the tats. The human mantra ‘keep Austin weird’ made a girl like her feel right at home. Vampire and all.

  She stepped out of the car. The chirping of the alarm told her the car was locked, and she glanced at her reflection in the car window to fix her hair. Cold wind swirled around her, settling into her bones but offering no adverse effects to her nervous system. Being undead had its perks.

  Click. Click. Click. Her four-inch spiked heels struck the concrete, announcing her presence with each step. A whistle pierced the air and she turned toward t
he source of the noise. A bouncer shot her a wide smile. She offered him a polite wink before continuing down the street. Not her flavor.

  Hunger protested in her stomach, curdling in displeasure at her discriminating taste. Her inner predator was begging to come out and play, but she shoved the urge aside.

  Not yet. Still too early. She had work to do first.

  Rho studied the crowds of people on the street. Bar employees stood outside, luring people into their establishments with promises of drink specials and beautiful people. Music blared in the streets, streaming out from the open doors of the clubs. A grossly inebriated bachelorette party stumbled along the sidewalk. She dodged them, smiling politely before turning into the poorly lit bar.

  The overgrown bouncer held open a massive black door, surveying Rho’s body with his level stare. His eyes were flecked with green, his skin shimmering ever so slightly against the soft glow of a streetlamp. No doubt he was an elf. She lifted a brow and he gave her a slight nod. Access granted.

  As a human, she’d always found Night Storm a bit intimidating, the pierced and tattooed crowd daunting by its sheer size alone. But since she’d already died once, there wasn’t much left to fear. Now this was her bar of choice.

  The scent of Dwellers hung thick in the air, intermingled with the tempting aroma of humans. She strode up to the bar and perched on the edge of an empty barstool. Someone in this place knew about the missing Kamen. Or at least knew of someone powerful enough to gain access to it.

  She surveyed the crowded room. One very drunk human girl speaking entirely too loud. Four human men standing in a circle, sipping fresh beers. Two more men, not human, leaning on the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. One beautiful dark-haired female with a pixie cut, also not human, flanked by two very interested men.