Fire Burn And Cauldron Bubble, A Paranormal Romance (Jolie Wilkins)

by H. P. Mallory

  You are awfully quiet.

  It was Rand’s voice in my head. I looked up at him. Why would you agree to let him train me? He’s horrible!

  He’s the best person to train you—he’s right, you do need to learn to defend yourself.

  But I don’t trust him!

  Did you really think I’d leave you alone with him? I’ll be right there with you.

  That made me feel a little better. How many times will I have to meet with him?

  Until you can adequately protect yourself.

  I didn’t respond, but turned my attention away from him, put out with the whole thing. The sound of music met my ears and I turned to watch as people began nearing the dance floor. I thought it was a waltz if I had to guess, but I wasn’t too familiar with classical music. This had to be the weirdest night of my life. Surrounded by creatures of the Underworld and now a waltz?

  I downed the remnants of my glass and Ryder refilled it. I didn’t say anything but nodded my thanks, noting Gwynn hanging on him like a toupee on a bald man. If she was attempting to talk him out of training me, I wished her much success.

  He pulled away from her and leaned in closer to me. “You’ll thank me one day.”

  It would be a cold day in hell before those words ever spilled from my lips.

  Christa finished her glass of wine and accepted another from Ryder. I wished I could teleconverse with her to see what she thought of the bastard. The waltz ended and Bon Jovi’s “Living in Sin” came on, making me think this night couldn’t get any odder.

  Christa grabbed my hand when I thought she would and with a great big smile, she led me to the dance floor. I was only too happy to appease her in order to escape the confines of the table and Ryder’s insistent gaze. I’d taken my glass of wine with me and downed the remnants, giving myself a little liquid courage.

  After dancing three songs, I started feeling better. At the start of the fourth song, I decided I needed a rest and returned to the table. It was empty aside from Rand who leaned back in his chair, regarding the scenery around him with interest.

  I took the seat next to him and watched the throng of dancers pulsate to the rhythm of the music.

  “Aren’t you a dancer?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I prefer the old style of dancing.” He turned his attention to me and I dropped my gaze.

  “You look beautiful tonight, I didn’t get to tell you earlier.”

  I offered a small smile in thanks as thoughts of reflection coursed through me. My life had changed in ways I’d never have imagined. Even though there had been bad moments and my future was uncertain, I’d have to say it had changed for the better.

  “It’s funny where you end up in life,” I said, reaching for a glass of water.

  “How so?”

  “A year ago, no, six months ago, if someone were to tell me I’d be dancing with a bunch of witches, wolves, and vampires, I’d say they were crazy.”

  Rand laughed. “Destiny is a funny thing.”

  “Do you think that’s what it is?”

  “I do,” he answered as Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” came on. This only happened to be one of my favorite songs, and so I stood up and reached for Rand’s hand.

  “It’s not a waltz, but it’s slow enough, come on.”

  Rand took my hand and as we walked to the dance floor together, I caught Christa’s eye. She waved as she mouthed the words to the song—this was one of her favorites too.

  Rand grabbed hold of my waist as we started dancing. I had to give it to him, he wasn’t half bad.

  “I actually like this song too. I liked it when it first came out,” he whispered in my ear and I laughed.

  It was wonderful being in his arms, being so close to him. The scent of his aftershave hit me and I had to inhale, thinking it the best aphrodisiac. He twirled me around and caught me even more closely than he’d been holding me before. For a moment, I could pretend there was no tension between us, that we could admit our feelings for one another … that we had admitted them.

  “I should teach you to waltz sometime, I imagine you’d be wonderful,” he whispered.

  I didn’t notice that another song had started until it was almost halfway over. I did notice that Rand was now holding me against him, very closely. I closed my eyes and settled my head against the crook of his neck. Melting into him, I could feel every hard plane of his chest, every muscle.

  “You make our work relationship very difficult on me,” he said as his hand began stroking my waist

  “These are your rules we’re playing by, not mine,” I answered with no amount of apology.

  “I second guess them every day.” He squeezed my waist. I lifted my head just in time to see Trent grabbing Rand’s collar. Before anyone could stop him, he yanked Rand from my grasp and punched him across the face. Rand, completely unaware, fell to the ground, but was up an instant later, his lip busted and bleeding. A few women screamed, and I wasn’t sure, I might have been one of them.

  Realizing I had to do something, I jumped between the two of them and grabbed Trent’s jacket, trying to keep him from going after Rand again. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I screamed as he turned his attention to me with a sneer.

  “That bastard has been after you all along,” Trent said and grabbed hold of my waist, pulling me into his hard body.

  I pushed against him, but his grip was iron strong.

  The entire room was silent as everyone’s attention centered on Rand, who was facing Trent with an anger the likes of which I’d never seen before. He wore the façade of calm, but his eyes were raging, his hands fisted. His aura was doing its own dance of ire, billowing purple against the rage and humiliation Rand must’ve been feeling.

  “Let go of her,” Rand seethed.

  Trent tightened his grip on me, and I dug my nails into his arm, pushing against him.

  “You’re making a drunk fool of yourself,” I seethed.

  “If you don’t bloody well let go of her now, I will kill you,” Rand warned and his eyes were deadly serious. Dear God, he would.

  Even though Trent was far down my list of favorite people, I couldn’t say I wanted to see him dead. I glanced at Rand’s determined countenance and his eyes spelled it out in no uncertain terms. Trent was lucky he was still alive.

  “Don’t be a moron, you can’t defeat him,” I whispered, hoping Trent would back down. Then I remembered I was a witch and imagined a powerful burst of electricity coursing through Trent, not something too potent but just enough to wake him the hell up. Trent jumped and I stepped away from him.

  “Go then,” he growled, the hairs on his arm all standing to attention—hmm, maybe I’d jolted him with a little too much energy.

  “I want you to leave,” Rand said and I could see he was subduing himself. He’d always hated Trent and I imagined it was all he could do to keep himself in check.

  Trent laughed and made a move for the door, but being the bastard he was, had to get the last word in. “Jolie, when you get sick of the warlock, you know where to find me.”

  SIXTEEN

  As I sat in my room and removed my earrings, I couldn’t help but play back the events of the night. What had Trent been thinking? God, I was almost embarrassed I’d dated him considering what an idiot he’d turned out to be. I was surprised Rand hadn’t killed him on the spot.

  Rand.

  I couldn’t suppress the heat that started at the top of my head and coursed through my entire body. I’d been seriously misled to think Trent had in any way dissipated my feelings for Rand. I was as crazy about him now as I always had been. Trent had just been a minor interlude in the symphony known as Rand.

  I shook my head against the onslaught of emotion that claimed my already fragile temperament and faced myself in the mirror. I, Jolie Wilkins, never imagined it possible that two men would fight over me; things like that just didn’t happen to me. Well, I guess now they did.

  I sighed and turned around, thinki
ng I should get undressed and go to bed. The thought held no temptation—I wasn’t tired, even though it was late and I’d spent enough adrenalin to wipe out a small army. There was an insistent hum alive in my head that would prohibit me from sleeping—a hum of thoughts regarding Rand: if he were sleeping, how his lip was, if he was mad at me.

  I suddenly remembered Rand telling me in Chicago that he could tell when I was sleeping by sending … mental feelers, I think he’d called them. Hmm, maybe it was worth a shot. I closed my eyes and imagined Rand, but from there, I wasn’t sure what to do. After a few seconds of getting myself all hot and bothered as my dream Rand happened to be naked, I opened my eyes.

  In a moment of spontaneity, I slipped my feet back into my four-inch heels and grabbed my room key that had been ogling me from the bed stand all night. If the damned thing were capable, it’d be smiling and winking at me about now, knowing I was headed for the elevator that would take me to Rand’s floor.

  Once in the elevator, the muzak floating through the walls made my stomach clench, and I had to talk myself out of hitting the button to take me back to my room. The dinging of the elevator doors announced Rand’s floor and interrupted the doubt clouding my mind. I didn’t separate myself from the wall and just stared at the hallway as if a three-headed gorgon awaited me at the end of it. The doors started to close, and I prohibited their marriage with my arm.

  I was on his damn floor; I had to get out. I took a step forward, feeling like I was wading through drying glue. Would Rand tell me to get lost? Maybe he wanted to be alone. Maybe he was angry and blamed me for the incident? I guess if anyone should be blamed, it was me—it was my fault I’d dated the bastard Trent in the first place.

  If I could have yelled at myself, I would have. There was no way this was my fault—I was just looking for an excuse not to knock on Rand’s door. Well, the doubts in my mind wouldn’t win. I raised my hand with authority and aimed my fist to strike the door when it opened.

  “Took you long enough.”

  Rand stood before me and just like that, my confidence leaked out of me as if I were a sieve. Feeling as ineffectual as a bowl of spaghetti, I hesitated, cursing myself for coming up here in the first place. I faced the hallway before me and thought if I took off my shoes, I could probably run and get to the elevator before he stepped foot in the hall.

  “I … how did you know I was standing here?” I said, and my voice wavered.

  I tried to keep my gaze from traveling down his white t-shirt and boxers. Obviously, he hadn’t been expecting anyone. The spacious width of his pectorals protruded through the thin fabric of the t-shirt, and I could just make out the dusting of hair atop them.

  His face, Jolie, focus on his face, dammit!

  “I could sense you from the elevator.”

  I swallowed the butterflies that were forcing themselves up my throat. My attention shifted to the amused smile alight on his lips, and I had to force down the flush threatening to steal my cheeks. His lip had healed, courtesy of his magic. He didn’t say anything right away but stood looking at me while I tried to make my mouth work.

  “I wanted to make sure you were alright,” I blurted haplessly.

  “Come in.” He held the door open, and the darkness of the room seemed to fight the light of the hallway. A lone yellow glow from the corner of the room leant the darkness a jaundiced sort of feel.

  I took a step forward until he and I were parallel, then I hesitated. “Well, I don’t want to interrupt you …” I started, suddenly realizing it might look as if I’d come here to have sex with him. That hadn’t been my goal. I’m not sure what had been.

  Rand chuckled and settled his hand on my hip. With a gentle nudge, he pushed me over the threshold. “You’ve already interrupted me, so no harm done.”

  I timidly stepped inside as the subtle notes of “Rhapsody in Blue” twirled around me, as if dancing with my breath. When I turned to face him, my attention quickly swept over his muscular and tan legs. How he was able to maintain that golden color year-round in England was beyond me. That had to be warlock magic. I dropped my gaze, finding it too difficult to look upon him in his current state of undress.

  “I wanted to apologize,” I said, not wanting him to think I’d come for any other reason. He closed the door and turned toward me.

  “Why? It wasn’t your fault.”

  I shook my head. “I should’ve listened to you about Trent.” I’m one of those people who has a tough time saying I’m wrong. But once the words were out, I was proud of myself. I guess, in a weird way, it felt good to say I’d royally f’ed up.

  He neared a small kitchenette area and poured two glasses of wine, handing one to me. “You needed to find out for yourself.”

  Hmm, so he wasn’t going to play the part of: I told you so.

  I shook my head. Now that I’d come out on a limb and admitted I was wrong, I didn’t want him to take that away from me. “I should’ve just listened to you, and I can’t help but think that it’s my fault you got punched.” I took a sip of the wine, wishing it were an elixir of fortitude and courage.

  “How’s your lip?”

  He whetted his lip with his tongue, and I thought it the most erotic thing a man had ever done. “Healed,” he said as he pulled a bar stool out and perched atop it. Swirling the wine in his glass, he studied me. “It’s the wolf’s fault that he punched me. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “Well, I did date him.”

  Rand chuckled, the wine in his glass swirling up the sides as if echoing the sentiment. “Okay, you win, I suppose I can fault you for that.”

  I couldn’t help myself as I stepped closer to him, needing to feel his warmth in the same way a junkie needs his next fix. Only inches away, he dropped his smile and merely watched me as I put my wine glass on the side table. I stepped between his legs and nearly lost my nerve when I felt his hot breath against my bare shoulders.

  “Let me see your lip,” I said and tilted his face down, pretending to inspect his mouth.

  I ran my thumb across his plump bottom lip, and he closed his eyes, his long black lashes gracing the tops of his angular cheeks. My heart pushed against my ribs, pumping so much blood, I almost felt faint. I knew what I would do, maybe I’d known even before I’d come up here. I leaned down, replacing my fingers with my lips. The kiss was tender, only skimming the surface of his mouth with my own. He didn’t flinch or demand more. He let me explore him. I ran the tips of my fingers down the sides of his face, noting how soft his skin was, how the merest indication of stubble grazed my fingertips.

  Suddenly overcome with the biting need to gaze on his exquisite face, I pulled away, my index finger perched at the bottom of his cheek. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

  Rand opened his chocolate eyes. I could almost see the tempest of emotions flooding his gaze—how he fought against himself, knowing we shouldn’t want one another but also realizing the futility in thinking it. He set his glass of wine down next to mine and wrapped his arms around my lower waist, imprisoning my torso against his chest. I smiled down at him and braced my arms on the counter, on either side of his head.

  “Did I tell you how stunning you were … are tonight?” he asked.

  I nodded. “You did. I believe that was right before you got punched.”

  Rand quirked a brow, but it was the only sign of emotion on his face. “I can’t keep fighting this, Jolie.” He sighed. “I just want you too bloody much.”

  With his words, bliss showered down on me, each droplet of delight sinking into me until I felt the need to cry or scream with glee. I leaned down, and he lifted his head to meet my lips. His hands roamed down my back, resting on my bottom as my tongue worked its way into his mouth. He pulled me into him as if he couldn’t stomach the idea of any air separating us.

  A tiny internal voice of doom interrupted the dance of our tongues and whispered that I was becoming dangerously gone, on the brink of not being able to stop. I reminded myself that I hadn�
�t come to have sex with him. With a groan, I broke the seal between us. I licked my lips, wanting to get every last taste of him. He chuckled but didn’t loosen his grasp around my waist.

  “I enjoyed dancing with you tonight,” I started, looking into his eyes. They were different now, heavier in their chocolate brown, darker with lust.

  “As did I. It would’ve been perfect if that fool hadn’t hit me.”

  I traced his hairline as I laughed. “That was rather unfortunate.”

  He reached for my face and pulled my lips back to his as his tongue invaded my mouth again. I moaned and sank into his hard body. How badly I wanted to let go, to tear the t-shirt from him and explore the wonder of his naked chest with my mouth. His hands cupped my bottom, and he was insistent this time, pulling me against his hard arousal.

  My breathing was shallow, like a doe that’s been shot. When his hands traveled up my back and around my waist, only to settle on my breasts, my breathing picked up. He dropped his face into my cleavage and kissed the mounds of flesh that ached to be free.

  I’m not sure how I did it, but I flattened my hands on his chest and pushed back. He regarded me with a bit of surprise and even more disappointment. “I didn’t come here to have sex with you,” I said, commanding as much courage as I could.

  “What did you come for?” He wasn’t angry, more curious.

  I dropped my gaze. “I needed to be near you.” I was a bit embarrassed after I said it, thinking it sounded sort of melodramatic and emotional. Rand wasn’t much of an emotional guy.

  Rand didn’t say anything but leaned into me and began toying with the zipper on the back of my dress. His eyes never left mine as he peeled the dress down my chest and let it pool at my hips. His eyes traversed my naked stomach as his hands coaxed the dress from my hips, until it piled at my feet. I shivered, clad only in my strapless bra, panties and heels. I stepped away from the mound of fabric at my feet and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling entirely too exposed.

  Rand pulled the t-shirt over his head. I couldn’t stop my gaze as it raked his very muscular chest. His pectorals were broad and well defined and his abdomen was tight, revealing rows of defined muscle. I didn’t want to count, but I think he was verging on an eight pack. Dark hair lightly dusted his chest, and I wanted nothing more than to run my hands through it, to see if it were soft or wiry. Thoughts like that would get me in trouble, and I forced my attention back to his face, searching for something to say.