Cait was beginning to see how Owen had survived so long as a hunter. He was resourceful and a quick thinker. He knew his opponents weaknesses and took full advantage of them.
And he knew when to beat a fast retreat.
The demons were further behind now, but she wasn’t sure how long it would last. Demons could teleport and they could fly, and she had no doubt they would use that to their advantage now their prey was breaking away from them.
Owen broke out onto one of the main cobbled streets, eliciting shocked gasps from the people he nearly mowed down.
Cait elicited several stares, mostly from the males. Some of their females noticed and cuffed them around the back of their heads. She didn’t have a chance to apologise to the women for her state of undress. Owen yanked her with him, but not down another side street as she had expected.
He pulled her at a rapid pace down the main street.
Heading towards the witches’ district.
Cait shook her head. Bad move. They were being chased by demons and witches were more likely to drive them out than let them in when they had trouble of that magnitude on their heels.
The storeowners ahead of them seemed to get wind of them coming and the street suddenly cleared, all of the patrons melting into the alleys as the witches came out from their shops. Her eyes widened as more appeared, most of the women wearing the traditional plain black dress of a witch on duty. They formed a line across the street, blocking the way, and the electric sizzle of magic charged the air.
She tugged on Owen’s hand, trying to drag him towards the last available side street.
His hand clenched hers, a vice-like grip she couldn’t shake, and he flicked a smile at her that she guessed was meant to be reassuring.
It wasn’t.
In front of them was a blockade of witches who all felt ready to launch a violent spell, and behind were a group of enormous demons charging like a herd of enraged Hell beasts.
Rock and a hard place came to mind.
She almost wanted to close her eyes as Owen approached the witches at full speed, his boots pounding the cobbles, afraid they were about to collide. She did flinch as they reached the blockade and then her eyebrows shot up as they breezed straight through the witches.
Cait looked back in time to see the gap that had opened in the blockade close behind them and the witches launch the spells she had sensed, aiming them all at the demons.
A young brunette witch came running at them, waving frantically. “Owen!”
Cait stared at the pretty little thing. “Did you do a job for her too?”
“No.” The hardness of his tone warned she wouldn’t get anything other than that out of him, but it didn’t stop her from wanting to press and see if she could.
“This way.” The witch twisted on the spot in a move that had to have been made possible by magic and zoomed down a side street to Cait’s right.
Owen skidded on the cobbles, swiftly changing direction, and dragged Cait with him as he pounded down the alley behind the witch. Each hard stride hurt Cait’s bare feet, the cobbles biting into her bones as she landed awkwardly on them every time, seemingly doomed to land all of her steps wrongly. She wanted to slow down but Owen refused to let her.
He followed the witch through the maze of streets between the white rustic buildings, leaving the stores behind and heading into a residential area.
The petite brunette halted outside a small single-storey rectangular dwelling with an emerald green wooden door and produced an enormous ring of keys from out of thin air. She rifled through them, the keys jangling frantically as she searched for the right one. It set Cait on edge and she looked around them.
A huge bright blue explosion lit the air beyond the houses, back in the direction they had come, and the sulphurous smell of magical discharge drifted down to her.
The witches were still fighting.
Cait didn’t have a damned clue what was going on anymore and she wanted an explanation.
The witch finally found the key and unlocked the door. Owen shoved it open and bundled Cait through it, tugging her close to him, the heat of his body and the feel of it pressing against her distracting her for a second, making her forget the insanity that had just happened.
“I left everything as it was for you,” the witch said, pulling Cait back to the world.
Owen released Cait and crossed the small living area to a worn black leather armchair set in front of the dark fireplace. He removed his satchel and dumped it onto the chair, grabbed the checked blanket from it and came back to her. His gaze studied her face as he unfurled the blanket, settling it around her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he husked, the rich deep sound of his voice warming her right down to her bones.
He clutched her shoulders through the blanket and she nodded as she gathered it around herself, holding it closed in front of her chest.
He smiled and she didn’t give him a chance to move away from her. She launched a hand out from beneath the blanket and snagged his wrist.
“You lived here… in the witches’ district?” Her gaze searched his for the truth, afraid that he would keep it to himself, another of his secrets that stirred her curiosity about him and made her want to pry it from him.
He nodded, but gave her no explanation, just as she had expected.
She released him when the brunette witch approached him and he turned to face the woman, a glimmer of something like affection filling his green eyes. The witch tiptoed and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her deep brown eyes closing in time with his, and Cait wanted to growl at how close they appeared and how both seemed to take comfort from that intimate caress.
The witch set back down on her heels. “It’s good to see you again… but don’t bring trouble with you next time. Lay low for a few hours. I’ll let you know when you’re safe to move.”
The petite female turned away from Owen and walked towards Cait where she lingered near the door. Her eyes turned dark, narrowing on Cait as she passed, leaving her feeling that the demons weren’t the trouble the woman had been speaking about. She thought Cait was trouble.
Cait waited for the door to close before looking at Owen. “I get the feeling your little witch doesn’t like me.”
His expression remained emotionless and unreadable, his green eyes giving nothing away. No reaction to either of her tests. The witch didn’t like her. The witch was Owen’s. It was the only conclusion she could draw and it stoked her blood, making it burn again, worse than it had when she had thought the succubus had been in a relationship with Owen.
Cait looked around the cramped house.
It consisted of a small living area that had more books in it than his expansive drawing room back at his house in London and a closed door to another room. She tried to use the time it took her to study the cluttered room to grapple with her emotions and get them back under control, but the fire in her veins refused to simmer down, rolling at a steady boil that had her itching to track down the witch or turn on Owen.
Since tracking down and confronting a witch felt like a dangerous move, she settled on glaring at Owen.
She was starting to hate his secrets.
“Why do you own a place in the witches’ district?” she snapped and tossed the blanket he had placed around her shoulders, feeling no need for it now that they were alone.
He had already seen her naked. He had already seen her in her cat form. She had no secrets now, no mystery left. She had already given him what he had desired as payment for the job. There was nothing stopping him from backing out of it and leaving her to deal with the male alone.
Nothing except pride and honour.
She wasn’t sure how much of those two things a man with secrets could have.
“Did you share it with the witch?”
Cait hated herself for how that question came out, laced with uncertainty and fear, and a sprinkling of ridiculous hope. What was she doing? What was it about Owen that had her tied in knots? He ma
de her feel weak. He made her feel vulnerable. He stripped away her strength until she felt that all she could do was rely on him, trust in him, and pray to her gods that he wouldn’t take that trust and destroy her with it.
Owen frowned at her from across the room, his muscular chest rising and falling with each hard breath he drew, pressing against his snug black shirt. His green eyes darkened a full shade.
He finally shook his head.
“I lived here alone.” He took a measured step towards her and she backed away one, feeling uncertain about everything and unwilling to allow him close to her when she didn’t know what she was doing or whether she was coming or going.
She wanted to go.
She wanted to stay.
He tore her in too many directions, pulling her apart more and more each hour she knew him. Every instinct she possessed demanded she stay.
With him.
“Does it make you feel better that I lived here alone?” he murmured, a wickedness entering his eyes, leaving her feeling he could see straight through her eyes and down into her soul and her heart, and he knew all of her. Every secret. Every feeling. Everything. “If you keep on like this, I might start thinking you’re jealous, and then I might just have to ask why.”
Cait lowered her gaze to her bare feet, trying to ignore the way he was looking at her, his green eyes filled with hunger again, heat that set her on fire and made her burn.
She didn’t move as he approached her but she did lift her head and look over her shoulder when he passed her. She tracked his progress across the room and watched as he locked the door, turned his back to it and leaned against it.
Her heart thudded against her ribs.
Heat pooled lower, settling in her belly.
He wasn’t going to let her leave.
Her foolish questions and her weakness had given him control over her, a piece of her she couldn’t take back. He knew. She stared at him, her eyes locked with his, heat burning between them and sucking all the air from the room. She couldn’t think straight when he was looking at her like that. He looked like a man with an insatiable hunger, one that consumed and controlled him, a need that ran as deep in him as the one that ran through her.
When he looked at her like that, making her feel that she wasn’t alone in what she was feeling, and that he felt it too, she wanted to fall into his arms and trust he could see her safely through whatever was happening between them.
Did he feel the same fierce attraction as she did? The same consuming passion? The same intense need that left her feeling she would die if they were separated?
His green gaze narrowed, filling with the heat and hunger that existed inside her, silently answering her questions. He felt it too. She wasn’t alone.
“You do seem a little jealous,” he husked and canted his head to one side, causing strands of his dark hair to fall down and caress his brow.
She wanted to close the gap between them and brush those strands back, to sweep her fingers across his brow in their place, and then flutter them down to his cheek, stirring the passion that blazed in his eyes until it burned as wild and hungrily as her own.
“First the succubus.” He pushed away from the door and slowly prowled towards her. Her breathing hitched, coming quicker as he drew closer, his eyes constantly fixed on hers and holding her immobile. Powerless against his dark allure. “Now my cousin Julianna.”
Cait gasped. “Cousin?”
He nodded and the fog of lust and desire cleared from her mind, instantly evaporating as she realised the true depth of what he had just told her. A secret, one he evidently held close to his chest, unwilling to reveal it to anyone.
She had heard a thousand tales of Owen Nightingale and if the world knew what he had just confessed to her, she was sure every one of those tales would have mentioned it.
Owen Nightingale was a witch.
Cait looked up into his eyes as he neared her, his heat and masculine scent swirling around her, completely enclosing her and narrowing the world down to only him.
He lowered his head, looking down into her eyes through ones that held a cold note, an edge that warned he wanted her to say something, needed to hear what she thought of what he had told her.
That alone confirmed her suspicions that he had offered up his secret to her.
It touched her.
“I always felt as if you had cast a spell on me… weaving your black magic from the moment I set eyes on you.” She lifted her hand and brushed her knuckles across his cheek, her breath leaving her in a rush as his eyes closed and he leaned into her touch, seeking more from her.
How could he make her feel so weak one moment and so powerful the next?
To have such a male seeking comfort from her, to feel that he needed this from her and only her, empowered her. It felt as if he had just placed something precious into her hands and trusted her not to use it against him.
A male witch. She still couldn’t believe it, even when the knowledge of what he was made everything she had felt in him make sense at last. The source of the sensation she had about him, the sense that he was dangerous and powerful despite being mortal, was magic, buried deep in his blood.
“You don’t have to be jealous, Cait,” he murmured and slowly opened his eyes, raising them to meet hers. They seemed brighter, overflowing with heat and tenderness as they held hers, stealing her breath away and making her heart race. “You were beautiful when you shifted… I mean… you were even more beautiful. I didn’t think it was possible… but you were.”
Her eyes widened and he covered the hand she had against his face with his, took hold of it and brought it down between them, holding it close to his chest.
“If anyone has cast a spell, Cait… it was you… you’ve bewitched me.”
CHAPTER 8
Owen felt as if he had just laid his heart on the line as he looked down into Cait’s wide blue eyes, his mouth turning impossibly dry as he waited for her to say something. Anything would do. He just needed to break the thick silence that had descended, sucking the air from the small living room.
His heart pounded as he waited, a sickening rhythm that left him feeling weak right down to his marrow. He had faced countless enemies but none of them had been as daunting as facing Cait in this moment.
He cursed himself for saying something so revealing, words that had put a piece of himself out there for her to snatch and hold to her chest, or snatch and crush out of existence.
It had been bad enough when he had started waxing lyrical about her hellcat form, conveying in the most atrocious and schoolboy sounding way that he had been amazed by the sight of her, stunned by how incredibly beautiful she had been.
Her black fur had been glossy and she had been larger than a panther in size, and her form had been more lithe and sleek. Her twin tails had astounded him, the way blue fire had flickered from their tips mesmerising him together with how she had breathed that same fire as if it was air.
When she had bared her fangs, the flames dancing around her teeth and fanning outwards on her breath, he had wondered whether he had been dreaming. In all the tales he had heard of hellcats, none had painted a picture that had lived up to the reality of her.
She had been breathtaking.
But she was even more breathtaking as she stood before him, her face free of make-up to reveal her natural beauty and her luscious curves exposed for his eyes to devour, each toned plane of her naked body setting his heart racing for a different reason, all of his blood rushing south at startling speed.
The past few days with her had been hell. He had tried to act professionally and keep his distance, but resisting the desire that blazed between them had been nigh on impossible and he had caved when she had kissed him. That kiss had opened the floodgates, sending need sweeping through him like wildfire, burning away his restraint. Heck, if she hadn’t mentioned needing to shower, he would have taken her right there in his living room, up against the wall.
The brief time apar
t had been enough for the pain meds and his salve to kick in though, making him drowsy and extinguishing his desire as his energy leached from him.
He wasn’t sure he could maintain his distance any longer, or that there was any point in denying himself what he wanted—her, pressed against him, wrapped around his body as he made love with her.
She stepped towards him, a measured one that made his breath hitch, and his eyes searched hers again, seeking something from her even though he wasn’t sure what it was that he wanted to see.
A glimmer of affection?
Something that would make him feel he wasn’t alone as he plummeted, falling hard for her?
His desire began to falter again, allowing fear to sweep back in, vicious words taunting him in his head, telling him that he had moved too quickly and had risked everything for nothing. It was all going to backfire on him.
Now the whole world would know that he was a witch, given that power by his mother.
Only she and his cousin Julianna had known that he had magic in his blood. Everyone else believed that it hadn’t passed to him.
Because it shouldn’t have.
The magic should have rejected him, as his mother and father had expected, because of his lineage. Previous Nightingales had fallen for witches, and none of the offspring from their unions had borne magic.
Everyone had believed he had been born the same, and he had been. He had exhibited no signs of power in his childhood. It had been during his transition into adulthood when it had appeared and he had been away from the Nightingale family home at the time, here in this fae town with his mother and Julianna.
His mother had feared his father and grandfather would force him to learn dangerous spells so they could use the portals to Hell and hunt bigger targets. She had convinced him to hide his magic from the Nightingale side of his family and had begun to train him in secret.
Owen had feared as his mother had. He had been young, but he had known in his heart that his family would seek to use him as a weapon if they discovered his ability.
He had hidden it from the world, never leaving any witnesses alive, ensuring none knew of the power that ran in his veins.
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