Hot Magic

by Catherine Kean

  Lucian pulled up the address on his GPS. “Bloody hell.”

  “Details,” Galahad said.

  “Molly’s mother’s house is a few blocks away.”

  “Uh-oh. That means….”

  “The anomaly’s what I sensed in the costume jewelry.”

  Switching on his turn signal, Lucian pulled away from the curb and followed the audio directions to the residence. Through the pelting rain, he studied the single story house shaded by several oak trees. A white-painted fence separated the front and back yards.

  “The cat I saw the other night,” Galahad said. “The female who talked. We saw her on this street, didn’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Geez, Lucian. We’ve gotta find out what’s going on around here.”

  Lightning flashed. “We will,” Lucian said.

  An incoming phone call.

  Cursing under his breath, Lucian pressed his steering wheel. “Julius.”

  “Almost a Category Two.” The Expert’s voice resonated inside the car. “What’s causing the magic to strengthen?”

  “Not sure. We’re near the location—”

  “Good. I’ve elevated this matter to several Archivists. They’re going to delve deeper into the data.”

  Julius had enlisted Archivists? He’d never done that to Lucian before. Did he not have faith that Lucian could resolve the situation? Fighting to keep his voice steady, Lucian said, “I’m more than qualified to deal with a Category Two.”

  “I know, but I have better resources at my disposal. The Archivists will try to find a precise date of origin. Hallmarks, even, although that may be difficult, since the data has some modern contamination.”

  “Modern contamination?” Lucian frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Muffled voices sounded in the background. “We’ll speak again later,” Julius said. “As I’ve said before, make the anomaly a priority.”

  Pouring rain hammered the roof of the car as Molly parked in front of Black Cat Antiquities. Water streamed off the awning covering the antique shop’s front door, causing a small river to flow down the sidewalk.

  During her drive to the store, the wind had at times forced the rain sideways, turning the road ahead into a murky blur. The wind continued to gust. She had an umbrella, and had worn one of her late mother’s raincoats, but getting from her car to the door without getting soaked would be next to impossible. She’d end up wet and bedraggled; not the way she wanted to look when seeing Lucian.

  She switched off the car and listened to the drumming of the rain. Maybe if she waited, the deluge would slow and she could make a run for the door. That seemed the best plan for now. Lucian would surely understand.

  She checked her phone. Five minutes late. She hated being late for anything. Always had. She’d texted him to let him know, but still.

  The deluge continued. Glancing over at the store, she couldn’t see Lucian inside, but the lights were on. He might be at the back of the shop, waiting for the bell on the door to chime.

  Seven minutes late.

  Ugh.

  She drew a steadying breath, dropped the phone into her purse, and picked up her umbrella. She was going to have to suck it up and brave the foul weather.

  Opening the driver’s side door, she snapped open the umbrella before getting out of the vehicle. The wind almost tore the umbrella out of her hand, but she hung on tight, slammed the car door, and hurried to the sidewalk. She stepped up onto it…and her right heel twisted.

  With a sharp cry, she pitched forward. The wind snatched the umbrella and sent it sailing down the sidewalk.

  She landed on her side. Her purse hit the sidewalk, and a comb and pen tumbled out. Rainwater soaked the leg of her jeans and ran down the back of her neck as she snatched up the fallen items, struggled to her feet, and tottered to the shop’s entrance.

  Locked.

  “You’re kidding me.” With a groan, she knocked on the door. When Lucian didn’t appear, she knocked louder. He might be in a part of the store where he couldn’t hear her, although he’d been expecting her ten minutes ago now.

  The wind howled again, driving rain and runoff water under the awning. Fingering damp hair from her cheek, she knocked again, praying Lucian would finally answer. She’d give him one more knock—

  Lucian appeared, keys in hand, striding toward her from the back of the store, with Galahad trotting beside him like a small dog. Lucian and his cat were soaked, too.

  The door clicked as he unlocked it and pulled it open. “I’m sorry,” he said, before she could utter a word. “I meant to be back before you got here.”

  “Back?” She stepped inside, woefully aware she was leaving a trail of water on the wood floor. “You left the store?” Rather odd, when he’d asked her to meet him at the shop.

  “I did.” He shut the door on the storm outside, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “I needed to…run an errand.”

  Molly sensed he’d done more than run an errand and taken Galahad along. He obviously didn’t want to tell her where he’d been—although surely after leaving her out in the rain, she deserved a truthful answer. “An errand? In this weather, with your cat? It—or she—must have been important.”

  “It,” he said firmly. “And it was.”

  She wished he’d just tell her where he’d been…unless he couldn’t, because of confidentiality agreements with his clients?

  Thunder boomed, the sound so loud, she startled.

  Pausing mid-wash of his front paw, Galahad meowed.

  “Fine. I went to get cat food,” Lucian said.

  That had been so important?

  “The special canned stuff he likes,” Lucian added with a smile. “Otherwise, you and I wouldn’t have a moment’s peace and quiet to talk.”

  “Okay….” That was a somewhat plausible reason for his tardiness.

  “Part way back here,” Lucian added, “we came upon a car stopped in the street. A tree branch had fallen, and a woman was trying to move it out of the way. I took over and pulled it to the side of the road. You might know the lady: Roberta Millingham.”

  “I know of her.” Molly had seen her name in the Historical Society papers.

  Mentioning Roberta though—someone Molly could easily contact to cross-check his story—meant Lucian hadn’t lied about his whereabouts.

  She could hardly stay upset with him when he’d been doing a good deed.

  Molly removed her raincoat and shivered as water slid into her bra. She must look a wreck. Lucian, with his tousled hair, damp skin, and shirt plastered to his muscled chest, looked like he’d just come from a wet modeling shoot.

  She doubted her clothes would be dry by the time they needed to go to the meeting. The knit fabric of her top was glued to her skin, and her poor shoes—

  “I really am sorry. Let’s get you dried off and warmed up.”

  How? She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, although in hindsight, that would have been really smart.

  Lucian shifted the key ring to his left hand, beckoned for her to follow him, and headed for a doorway toward the back of the shop.

  Thrills of excitement and unease trailed through her. Galahad looked up at her expectantly, as though waiting for her to willingly follow Lucian to part of the store that wouldn’t be visible from the street—not that anyone would be window-shopping during the storm.

  As she stared back at the feline, another shiver rippled through her; a curious sense that something was going on that she hadn’t figured out yet. The cat’s gaze seemed so very aware. Intelligent, even.

  The hairs at the back of her neck prickled. Between the tempest that could be the backdrop of a horror flick, the vibes she was getting from the cat, and being surrounded by a store full of possessions from people who were long dead, her whole situation suddenly seemed off.

  “You know, I should head home.”

  Lucian halted and faced her. “You just got here.”

  “I can’t go to the paranormal society me
eting in these wet clothes.”

  “The meeting’s probably been cancelled.”

  That would make sense. Even more reason for her to return to the house.

  “It’s no problem, though,” Lucian continued. “We can talk—”

  “Let’s reschedule for another day. Tomorrow, even.”

  “No.”

  She blinked hard. “No?”

  With brisk strides, he started back toward her. “Stay.” A bit more gently: “You have to.”

  Her pulse pounding against her breastbone, she took a backward step. “I don’t have to.”

  His strides slowed. Raising his hands, palm up, he said, “I’m not trying to frighten you.”

  “You don’t,” she said firmly.

  Liar.

  As though attuned to her thoughts, he smiled faintly. “If you leave now, I can’t show you what I found in my grandfather’s records.”

  Molly glanced out at the street, the rain still pouring down. Lucian was almost upon her now. On her next backward step, her bottom bumped the door handle.

  The skin across her breasts tingled, because Lucian stood in front of her, so close, she could reach out and touch his shirt. The smells of wet cotton, fresh air, and spicy aftershave taunted her, coaxed her to listen to the part of her that yearned to stay and see what he had to show her.

  “Molly,” he murmured.

  “W-what?” She could hardly breathe with him standing so near.

  “I won’t let you drive in this storm.”

  The authority in his tone warned his decision wasn’t negotiable.

  Her attention snapped up from his damp beard. “You’re telling me what to do?”

  “Yep.”

  “You don’t have that right.”

  His brows rose. “You are in my store.”

  “Your grandfather’s store,” she amended. “Once I open the door and walk two steps, I will be on the public sidewalk.”

  “My grandfather made me the manager of this shop, meaning you now are in my premises. I am responsible for your safety. Your wellbeing.” Lucian reached up and tucked strands of sodden hair back behind her ear. “You.”

  Another shiver ran through her.

  His fingers glided in along her cheekbone to wipe away rainwater dripping from her hair. He lightly flicked the water away then returned to carefully brush away more droplets.

  She’d never experienced a touch like his: as light as the touch of a feather and exquisitely, thoroughly controlled.

  Heat and yearning sparked inside her, tempting her to lean her face into his touch, to see where his fingers would go next. The voice of reason, though, urged her to fight the longing. If she was going to leave, she must do it now.

  Lightning sizzled outside, followed by loud thunder. She swallowed hard. “I’m sure I will get home just fine.”

  His fingers glided again. “You’ll stay here.”

  “I don’t have far to drive—”

  His fingertips touched her mouth, stopping her mid-sentence. “No.”

  Again, his voice held that steely authority. While his alpha male demeanor was kind of hot, she shouldn’t let him order her around. “You can’t stop me from leaving.” If only her voice hadn’t wobbled.

  “I can stop you from leaving.” He stared down at her, his expression unyielding. “I will.”

  Her mouth gaped, dislodging his fingers. If he was trying to freak her out, he was succeeding. Was she stupid to have ever trusted him?

  As though aware of her thoughts, the corner of his mouth ticked up. “As I said before, I don’t mean to scare you. I’m trying to protect you.”

  She shuddered, uncertainty heightening her awareness of her soaked clothes and wet hair. Galahad brushed back and forth against her calves. The feline was between her and the door, and with him there, she couldn’t yank the door open without it hitting him; she’d never hurt an animal, not under any circumstances.

  “I can’t risk you getting hurt.” Lucian stroked her cheek again. “I’d never forgive myself if you were involved in an accident.”

  The tenderness of his tone melted some of her defiance. Why did he have to say such wonderful things?

  Triumph glinted in Lucian’s eyes. “You’ll stay.”

  She would. But, she wasn’t going to just give in. “Do I have a choice?”

  He winked. “Nope.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  His fingers settled under her chin and tilted her head back, leaving her no option but to stare up at him. “Just so we’re clear…. If you opened the door and walked out, I’d bring you right back inside.”

  “Bring? As in…?”

  “Before, when I threatened to toss you over my shoulder? Well—”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “I would.”

  His glower warned he’d be more than happy for her to test him by opening the door and racing outside right now.

  Of all ridiculous things, she wanted to. A thrill tore through her, urging her to accept the challenge, grab the door handle, and run. But, knowing her luck, she’d twist her ankle again and do a face-plant on the sidewalk, and her show of bravado would end up being rather pointless.

  “I won’t need to get all medieval on you, though, will I, since you’re going to stay put? I do, after all, have information to share with you,” Lucian said. “You must be curious about that.”

  “I am,” she managed to say.

  “It’s settled then.” He released her chin, stepped past her, and locked the door. Then he caught her hand, frowning as their fingers linked. As chilled as she was, her skin no doubt felt like ice.

  He towed her toward the rear of the store and she hurried along to keep up with his strides. Thunder roared outside like a feral beast. The lights in the store flickered.

  Lucian stowed the ring of keys then picked up a leather laptop bag and continued on toward the rear door.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere more comfortable.”

  Her anxious stomach gurgled. “Where, exactly, is that?”

  “My apartment.”

  Chapter Nine

  Molly had to be freezing. Her fingers were as cold as if he’d pulled her hand out of a snow bank.

  When she’d glanced out the window earlier, Lucian’s gaze had slipped lower, to the round beads of her nipples outlined by her wet top. Such perfect breasts. He’d have loved to gently warm them with his hands, but thankfully, common sense had overruled his desire. He needed to get her warm and dry. If he didn’t, she could get sick—and he’d be to blame, because she’d been out in the tempest until he’d let her inside.

  Her heels clicked on the floor behind him; two of her footfalls to one of his. At least she’d agreed to go with him of her own free will. She still believed she had choice.

  While she was cooperating, he’d made sure she couldn’t drive away as soon as he left her alone for a minute. While brushing the rain from her face with his fingers, he’d immobilized her vehicle with a spell, preventing it from starting until he’d removed the enchantment.

  Their conversation moments ago had revealed her stubborn streak, and if she wasn’t able to drive the car, she might run down the sidewalk to get help and put herself in danger from wind-blown debris. That meant he’d take other magical measures, too, to keep her with him.

  He had to—because he didn’t have a choice. He needed to find the source of the dark energy as soon as possible, before it increased even more in strength. He’d already determined she hadn’t brought the object with her tonight.

  “Your apartment,” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

  “Mmm?”

  “Is it far?”

  “Not far at all.”

  “You won’t let me drive in this storm, but you’re willing to?”

  “Neither of us is going to drive.” Lucian led her outside, the hiss of rain pouring down on the parking lot hindering further discussion. Galahad darted outside, and Lucian locked up without releasi
ng Molly’s hand then followed the cat down the covered sidewalk. Lucian typed his code into the electronic keypad to open the door on his left, and the squire bounded ahead up the carpeted flight of stairs.

  “I get it now. You live above the store,” Molly said.

  “It’s my grandfather’s place, but for now, I’m sharing it with him.”

  Molly didn’t answer, but Lucian felt her tremble. He squeezed her fingers, hoping to reassure her, as they reached the top of the stairs and he drew her down the hallway to the apartment.

  Once inside, he let go of her hand, flicked on the lights, and set his laptop bag on the hall table. He took her umbrella and raincoat from her, hung them on the coat stand then pushed the door shut.

  Molly’s gaze roamed over the modern-style, brown-leather sofa and chair and comfortable recliner in the living room, as well as the big screen TV and the assorted bronze sculptures, Art Nouveau lamps, and other antiques that made up his grandfather’s private collection.

  He knew the moment she found his grandfather’s most prized possessions. “Wow,” she murmured, crossing to the rows of swords, daggers, and several shields displayed on the wall next to the kitchen. “What era are these from?”

  “The Middle Ages, mainly. Some date to the 17th and 18th centuries.” Lucian had his own collection of weapons, most of them in storage. However, he kept his favorite sword and dagger on display in his bedroom in the apartment. His grandfather had insisted that Lucian keep them in easy reach. While it was unlikely a Dealer would try and steal from the shop, or that Lucian would face an uprising of artifacts in the store’s dark magic collection, he still had to be prepared for those possibilities.

  “They’re beautiful.” Molly studied a sword with a cross on its pommel. Warmth bloomed within Lucian, for he’d wielded that blade many lifetimes ago. “Where did your grandfather get them?” she asked.

  Lucian tore his focus from the light shimmering on her hair. “Private collectors. Auctions.”

  “I’m surprised these weapons aren’t in a museum.”