Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

The same glassy expression he wore earlier entered his eyes, and Connie reveled in it. She held him in the palm of her hand, and she couldn’t wait to crush him there.

  The trip into the dark alleys outside the safety zone was uneventful. Connie watched as the buildings grew progressively more dilapidated the further out they got. She even caught a glimpse of the half sunken Brooklyn Bridge. She read somewhere it was destroyed by a Russian spy during the war. It was hard to get true accounts so far after the events though, especially with the church having to approve every book written and published.

  Mikon would probably know what happened to the bridge. Connie swallowed down her regret at how things were going with him. They needed to have a talk when she got back.

  Noah jerked her from thoughts of the Reaper as the car pulled to a stop in a dark alley. Brick walls crowded close outside the car but she couldn't see any trash and the buildings looked in decent repair. All strange things for a place outside the safe zone.

  She followed Noah out of the vehicle and held tight to his forearm. "Are we safe here, Noah?" Playing the damsel sometimes worked even better than the vixen.

  "Of course, my dear. We’re just going through this door."

  They approached a weathered red door with giant steel hinges. The paint was chipped from top to bottom, but the hinges moved soundlessly as they entered and closed the door behind them.

  It only took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and the sight she beheld as she entered certainly wasn’t mainstream. There were half-naked women on the stage dancing to jazz numbers. The entire place looked like it belonged in a history book and yet it was breathtaking. The stained glass and mirrors behind the bars shone clean in the dim lighting and the wood stools and countertops all gleamed as if they’d just been shined.

  Noah led her to the bar on the far long wall, and she sat on a stool as he bellied up to the counter. The bartender brought them two drinks and Connie stared at hers warily. She didn’t have Mikon to get her out of another drugging.

  Noah must have noticed her unease because he leaned down and said, "it’s perfectly safe, I assure you. I would never do anything to harm you."

  She gave him a warm smile and sipped the cool liquid. It burned in the back of her throat, but wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It reminded her of the licorice candies the old man she was sold to used to eat. The memories bubbled up from some long dormant place. His hands on her skin, his foul breath on her neck. He hadn’t been a bad old man. He hadn’t abused her, but he’d never treated her like a child, always more like a trophy, something pretty to display and shine to his preferences. He’d seen her beauty and sought only to use it as a weapon. It had never mattered that she was an actual person with hopes, dreams, and wishes.

  She shook herself back to the present when Noah placed his hand, not too subtly, on her shoulder. He gazed down at her in the exactly the same way the old man had—and she hated it. The evening had become too much. She hopped off the barstool and gave Noah the biggest, fakest smile she could muster. "Could you point me to the ladies room, please?"

  "Of course. Just go around the bar. Second door on the left."

  Connie followed his directions. As soon as she closed the bathroom door she called Mikon.

  He answered after one ring, "Are you alright?"

  "Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed to..." She trailed off, unsure. "I needed to hear your voice, I think."

  "I was worried. Are you sure you’re okay? He hasn’t tried anything, has he?"

  She shook her head before realizing he couldn’t see it. "No, nothing. He’s the perfect gentleman," she said, sarcasm heavy in her words.

  "Be careful and get out of there as soon as you can. You know where the place is now. They can raid it. You don’t need to linger."

  "Okay, see you soon." She hung up then checked her makeup in the mirror. Her red hair made her skin seem almost translucent in the soft light of the bathroom.

  This was too much.

  She left the bathroom, and went back to schmoozing Noah and sipping her drink.

  A woman hung around the edges of the bar, often making eye contact with Noah. If Connie had been a betting woman she would probably say the woman was the manager and a personal friend of Noah’s. "Who is that?" Connie asked, pointing to her.

  Noah glanced up, "Oh, that’s my friend, Sera. She runs this club."

  Connie nodded, glad she could at least put a name with the report. "Noah, darling, I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if we go?"

  He turned to her abruptly and looked her over. "Is it too much for you?"

  She chuckled. "No, of course not. I just am not used to drinking and I think I have a bit of a headache coming on."

  Surprisingly he helped get her coat and immediately led her outside. He must want to keep her happy.

  They climbed in the car and she was on her way back to Mikon. The only place she needed to be.

  Chapter Twelve

  The moment Mikon heard a shuffle outside the door he ran over and threw it open. The sight in front of him instantly caused him to close the door and stalk back over to his side of the room.

  Connie was kissing that man. Their lips were locked and it seemed like she was enjoying it.

  The door opened and Connie slipped inside, removing her coat.

  He remembered the dress and cursed out loud.

  "Whoa, watch it, man. You’re going to need to start writing a confession list," she said, teasing him.

  The words couldn’t properly enter his mind because all he saw was her kissing that...that criminal.

  "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.

  She looked up and met his eyes. "Mikon—"

  "No, I don’t want to hear it. How could you even stand it? You could have easily held onto the sheltered heiress card and not ever have to touch him, but you kissed him!"

  Connie took a deep breath and let it out slow, but he was beyond trying to calm down at this point. "If you want to start a fight, fine! But can you wait until tomorrow. I’m tired."

  "Oh, you’re too tired to talk to me, but not quite tired enough to leave him at the door with a handshake."

  That seemed to do it. She stood and stalked toward him, pointing a finger. "I’m doing my job. If you have a problem with that, keep it to yourself. If I hadn’t kissed him then I wouldn’t have been able to continue. He wouldn’t have asked me on another date because he would have assumed a disinterest. I’ve barely touched him since we met. Yes, I’m a mark, but apparently the church didn’t think about the "lost heiress" connections when they gave me my alias." Connie turned around and plopped down on her bed. The headboard hit the wall with the force of it.

  "What the hell does your alias have anything to do with it?" he said, still angry, trying to gain control.

  "My alias has put me on more than just Noah’s radar. I’ve had to field passes, advances, and calls from suitors all over the damn country. It’s why I changed my damn name and scrubbed my records in the first place." She put her hands to her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  It took Mikon a few moments to piece it together and his anger quickly burned down to a low simmer. "You mean you really are Prudence Acquitaine?"

  She threw herself back and put her hands over her eyes with a loud groan. "Yes, okay. My mother sold me to him when I was thirteen. I escaped when he died and the inheritance went to me without my knowledge. I found out when I entered the church, but by then they just allowed me to keep my new name and I never mentioned it again. Once I was able to figure out the archives I scrubbed the data so no one could find me. Only Father Reynolds and Bishop knew the truth."

  "Did he..." Mikon wasn’t sure how to ask her.

  Connie caught his train of thought fast though. "No, he did not. He just treated me poorly. I had a very unhappy and lonely childhood. It also was pretty hard when the whole world assumed he actually did do terrible things to me. I guess I should just be happy he never did."

  There was no ea
sy way to ask a question like that. Mikon swallowed the fear that had threatened to overwhelm him when he thought she’d been abused.

  "Why on Earth are we always fighting?" Connie asked.

  Mikon had wondered the exact same thing. There was something about her that brought out this crazy protective person. "I don’t know," he said, instead.

  She sat up again, and he tried not to notice the low cut of her dress or the way it rode up her thighs, almost exposing her underwear.

  "Why can’t we be like normal partners? I know you hate Xander, but we never had drama, never fought, nothing."

  He snorted. "That was probably because he scared you a little. Apparently, I don’t do that to you."

  "Nope, you don’t really scare me at all. You need to work on your menacing Reaper routine," she joked.

  "I’ll try that on my next partner," he said.

  She stopped smiling and stared into his eyes. "As much as I hate you, I don’t want another partner."

  He stood then sat on the bed beside her so he could wrap her in his arms. Born Reapers were few and far between. With the other Reapers hating him for all the freedoms he had that they didn’t, and the one other born Reaper not even speaking to him because he’d felt he was better than everyone else, Mikon had always felt like an outsider. He still felt like an outsider, but now it felt like there was someone standing on the outside with him.

  She nestled her head against his chest, and he held her there, content for a few moments because she was also just as content. It radiated out of her like an aura, so strong he could almost taste it.

  "I’m sorry I snapped at you," he said. "I saw you two standing there and I got jealous. I know it’s your job and I shouldn’t have jumped on you."

  She leaned back to meet his eyes. "Why do I feel like we are always yelling at each other, then apologizing to each other? It’s like an endless cycle."

  He chuckled and rubbed his hand over his hair. "You’re so right."

  Tension grew as they stared into each other's eyes. Mikon was going to kiss her, even though he knew he shouldn’t. He leaned forward, just as his phone began to ring and vibrate violently on the bedside table.

  "It’s Bishop," he said, still only inches from her mouth.

  She nodded and leaned away so he could stand.

  The phone buzzed off the side of the table, and he caught it before it hit the floor. "Yes, sir."

  Bishop's voice cut through the phone loud and commanding. "It seems that this Hannock character has his hands on some relics the church is interested in. You and your partner need to find the location of these relics so that can be procured in the raid."

  "Yes, sir."

  Bishop hung up, and that was that. He always treated everyone like they were subordinate to him. Mostly everyone was, but that was beside the point.

  Connie sighed. "Great. Now our mission just got harder. Where do you think they could be?"

  He shrugged. "My guess would be his home or, if he has a secondary place, maybe the club you went to."

  "I guess I can just try to get information on all his properties and hope the squads can hit them all when we take Noah," she said.

  He nodded in agreement. "Maybe next time you can invite him in and I can try to read him. If you ask him the right questions while I listen, we might get more information. Although he’s very good at keeping a blank mind so it might not work. Worth a shot though."

  Noah Hannock was proving to be more of a challenge than either of them expected. They had underestimated the man. He had stolen over three hundred souls. Obviously he was very good at not getting caught.

  "We need an end game. He won’t sit idly by while I wear clothes like this and make him wait. He’s going to want to sleep with me."

  Mikon swallowed the jealousy that was clawing its way up from his stomach. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to be the one to lay beside her at night. For the first time in his life joining the Reaper Element seemed like the worst decision he could have made. He’d never expected to soul-mate, and he’d certainly never expected someone like Constance to enter his life. On the days he didn’t want to kill her, he thought maybe, almost—love?

  The thought took him unawares but the moment it settled into his mind it stuck and he couldn’t shake it.

  "Oh, Mikon?" Her voice brought him back sharply. He hoped his face didn’t look too guilty, but she was smiling as if she wasn’t sure if she should continue. "How did the Brooklyn Bridge collapse?"

  He laughed until his sides hurt. Not only was it a complete change of subject, but no one had asked him anything as remotely interesting in years.

  "Um," he said, trying to catch a straight face. "A book I read on the subject said a Russian spy who was captured during the war escaped, and then flew the plane into the bridge to stop supplies from getting into the city. I don’t know if it’s true but it’s an interesting story."

  Connie nodded. "Yeah, I think I read the same thing. We passed it on the way to the club and the first thing that came to mind was that you would probably know."

  He reached out and interlaced their fingers. The feather on her right arm drew his attention, and he met her eyes as he slowly reached out to touch it. She didn’t stop him, but her entire body seized up tight as if his touch would hurt her. He shifted his gaze to the mark. The black lines looked raised, as if the feather would be soft and downy against his index finger, but the skin was smooth, flat, just like the rest. He checked to see if she was all right but she had her eyes closed and her body had relaxed. "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah, fine. Usually that hurts me. Only the priests have ever touched my mark and it always hurts like I’d imagine being hit by lightning would feel like."

  "Why the hell didn’t you stop me then?"

  "It didn’t hurt. It felt...good. Like I could lay back and forget all my troubles."

  He let out a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t caused her pain. There weren’t official, punishable rules about soul-marks but there usually were rules of decorum and you never, under any circumstances, touched another’s soul-mark. It was considered as intimate an act as walking up and grabbing someone's crotch.

  "I’m sorry," he said after a moment.

  "No, don’t apologize. It’s partly you now, too."

  He’d never thought about it that. He now held a part of her soul—and she his—but what did that mean for them, both separately and apart? A lump built in his throat at the thought of leaving her alone and never touching her again. It was something he had no desire to contemplate.

  He decided he didn’t want to be without her, ever. If he had one long life to live he wanted to spend it with her by his side. They may fight non-stop, but he’d rather spend his whole life fighting than living without her in silence. "Constance?"

  She looked up from where their hands were clasped. "Yeah?"

  "Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to kiss you." He watched her eyes cloud over and her tongue dart out to wet her lips. He kept his voice steady and even, as if he were discussing the weather with Father Reynolds. "Then I’m going to strip that scrap of fabric from your body and make love to you until I erase any thoughts of another man from your mind."

  "But—"

  He held his hand up to stop her. "Do you want me?"

  She inhaled sharply.

  He’d said it on purpose. Using her own words against her.

  "I want you," she whispered between heartbeats.

  "Then you have me."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Her head and heart couldn’t reconcile what Mikon was saying. She wanted him almost more than her next breath, but couldn’t let him give up everything. The vow he’d taken meant a lot to him and to just throw it away for sex?

  "Mikon, I do want you, too. But I don’t want you to hate me for this later. You will resent this. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but down the road you will. I couldn’t bear to see you hate me."

  He squeezed her hand. "I couldn’t ever hate you. Ev
en when we first met, I was such a dick to you because the second I saw you I knew you were about to mess up my life. Turns out for the better."

  Trying to talk him out of something she wanted desperately was difficult. She looked into his eyes and saw he was completely sincere. "How about we start slow?" she suggested.

  "Slow is good."

  She scooted closer on the bed, close enough that the scent of his aftershave and shampoo mingled with her perfume, creating a new scent, something theirs.

  The doubt threatened to stall her progress but she swallowed it back, leaned forward, barely grazing his lips with her own. She opened her eyes and met his as she deepened the kiss, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. There was no force, just gentle acceptance. Soon she had to close her eyes because the sensations he was eliciting with his tongue were overwhelming.

  He tasted like mint toothpaste she noticed, as she thread her fingers into his hair. The stubble on his chin added a new sensation as his lips took control. She broke away with a gasp, still clutching his head in her hands. "Slow, remember?" she whispered against his lips.

  His mouth curled up in a sexy grin, one dimple showing on his left cheek. "Fuck slow."

  Her eyes widened as he leaned into her space, taking it up, and forcing her back onto the bed. His weight was comforting as he settled between her parted thighs. Big men were sometimes deceptive. They looked like they weighed as much as a horse, but when vertical it meant nothing. She put a hand on his chest, slowing his progress back toward her lips. "Mikon."

  "What?" he said, looking into her eyes. It helped they were now on the same level.

  "How long has it been since you found yourself...in this particular situation?"

  He chuckled. "Well, if you’re asking when I last had sex, it was before starting with the church. So...three years ago?"

  She smiled. "You don’t seem rusty at all."

  "Just like riding a bike," he quipped.

  She slapped his chest then leaned back to capture his lips with her own, sweeping her tongue into his mouth after the first brush.