Submissive by Moonlight

by Sindra van Yssel

  Rex Mackey didn’t claim to understand his son, but that he loved him was clear enough. Presumably he put a bug in Jacobsen’s ear about consulting a psychic. The idea of the conservative supervisor asking for help from a witch was pretty amusing. It was true enough, though, that conventional police methods hadn’t turned up anything so far, although that was often the case if someone didn’t want to be found. He got the feeling that Mackey thought that the police were just dragging their feet. Presumably the kid hadn’t been kidnapped, or there would be a ransom note. Probably he ran away from home. Since he was eighteen, there wasn’t much the police had to say about that, but there was always a chance that his body was lying in a ditch somewhere. The list of kids who’d harassed Jerry at some point was pretty long, starting with the whole Landon High School football team.

  It had been three weeks since Nolan had driven down from Marisa’s house in the woods. Three long weeks without any female companionship. He hadn’t been interested. Other women seemed plain to him now. He’d become more aware of all the ways people tried to conform; Marisa didn’t bother, and he found that sexy as hell. She wanted to submit, but not at the cost of what she believed. As he followed the winding road, he tried to figure out what his approach would be. He should try to keep things professional. He thought of telling her that it had been his idea to enlist her help but decided not to. It might go some ways to patch the gap between them, but it wasn’t the truth, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of lying to Marisa.

  He didn’t cotton to the notion of keeping things professional, either, but he had a job to do first and foremost. That job was to find Jerry Mackey, and the sooner he could get done with Marisa, the sooner he could get back to investigating the right way.

  Unless she can actually help.

  He snorted. Right. Psychic powers. Witchcraft. He’d had an easier time finding himself than poor Jerry Mackey had, but he knew what it was to grow up and take some time figuring out who one was. In fact, he suspected he’d be figuring out things until he was dead. But a few things I know for sure. I’m a cop. I’m a dom. And I don’t believe in any of that hocus-pocus stuff.

  The curtains were drawn when he drove up, although it was after ten in the morning. Maybe she was asleep still. He thought about the way they woke up together that first time, but the sweet memory turned bitter. He got out of the car, strode up the walk, and knocked. Getting sentimental wasn’t going to do him any good.

  He was about to knock again when her voice came through the door. “I thought I told you to go away, Nolan.”

  He smiled slightly. It wasn’t a welcome, but it was better than telling him to leave. “I don’t give up easily.” He kicked himself even as he said it. Whatever happened to saying, “Police business?”

  To his surprise, she opened the door. She was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans again. This time the shirt had a picture of a penguin on it. Damned if she didn’t look as beautiful in that as most women looked in an expensive gown. “I’m not a submissive, Nolan. I’m a strong woman. Not your type,” she told him firmly.

  Right. Not a submissive. “I don’t doubt that you’re a strong woman. Maybe someday you’ll have the strength to get what you want.” She was strong, and he wouldn’t have said it if she wasn’t. But there was nothing fake about her responses that night weeks ago.

  She opened her mouth, to protest he suspected, but he cut it off. “Anyway, I’m not here about that. I’m here on police business. May I come in?”

  “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I’m not inclined to let you do another search.”

  He remembered finding the toys in her drawer. He took a moment to look her over. If he’d stayed away, he might have been able to move on from her. As it was, a new determination was taking hold. He would have her in his arms again. He wasn’t sure she could help him find Jerry Mackey, but he wasn’t going to let this opportunity go to waste.

  “Let me know when you’re done with the visual,” she said. “I’m not letting you frisk me.”

  “Not even if I bring my handcuffs?”

  She gulped her next breath, and for a moment, she looked as if she was wavering. But he knew he wouldn’t win that way, and every time she said no, that only made her position more entrenched. “I’ll give you a rain check,” he said. “Right now, like I said, I’m here on police business. We’re looking for a boy named Jerry Mackey.”

  “I barely know him,” she said

  “I didn’t know you knew him at all.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Did he do anything bad?”

  “Not as far as we know. He’s a missing person, and his dad wants us to find him.”

  Marisa nodded. “A couple of years ago, he came out here a few times. He was interested in witchcraft, and I loaned him some books. He wanted a teacher, and I didn’t want to get involved with someone underage in a way that might put me in a compromising position, so he didn’t get what he wanted. Then, one time, he came looking for a spell. And don’t start in on me.” She glared.

  Even more interesting. “I wasn’t going to. What kind of spell did he want? Did you…do whatever you do? Cast a spell for him?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Care to clarify?”

  Marisa stepped outside, checked her jeans pocket, and closed the door behind her. “It’s not unusual for people to come to get me to cast spells for them. For the most part, I turn them down. They want things I can’t do, or shouldn’t do. They want me to hex someone for them. They want a love spell. But sometimes I can help, and do, and no, I don’t know for sure what good it does, but I do know that it gives them the ability to believe in an outcome. What you’d call the placebo effect, I suppose. I think there’s something else going on there, but I won’t try to convince you, unless you want to be convinced.”

  Nolan shrugged.

  “Anyway, yes, I cast a spell for Jerry, although not the one I was asked for. And I gave him one to cast for himself, because when we need change, that magic has to come from within. But it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted power, and I suspect he wanted revenge, although he didn’t tell me as much. He wanted stuff magic can’t give.”

  He left that one alone, even though he suspected she was using the word magic deliberately to bait him. “Is that the last time you saw Jerry? Two years ago?”

  “Yes. But he called me a week ago and asked if I could help him cast a spell that would make him hard to find.”

  “So why did you insist you barely knew him when you knew something relevant?” Nolan was a little pissed, but it was information worth the drive. She hadn’t lied to him, maybe, but she’d definitely hedged.

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. That’s his right, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. And if Jerry didn’t leave of his own power, he’s got a right to have people look for him. Which is where I come in.” He relaxed his jaw. People didn’t usually say everything they knew to the police, and he had to build trust with her all over again. He’d made her a suspect before. She probably feared he’d do it again.

  “Then why talk to me? I get the feeling you were surprised I even knew Jerry, so that’s not it.”

  Nolan frowned. This was the hard part. It was still tempting to tell her that it was his idea, that he wanted her help. But he never had been one for taking the easy road. “I was directed to enlist you in the search. The way you found the girl.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Witchcraft? Psychic powers? You’re asking me to look into a crystal ball?” Her tone was as derisive as any skeptic’s, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. “I thought you were pretty clear that you didn’t believe in such things.”

  He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my idea. And I didn’t know you did the crystal-ball thing.”

  “I don’t, in fact. Tried, when I was younger. I don’t seem to have the gift. What gave whoever it was the bright idea to send you? Or did you volunteer hoping to get into my pants again?”
>
  “Been thinking about that, have you?”

  “No.” But she blushed and looked away.

  “At least,” he said, “I’m honest with you. It may not get me very far, but I always give you the truth.”

  “Actually, you evaded my question.”

  “Did I? Well, then. I did not volunteer hoping to get into your pants again. It was the chief’s bright idea, and I objected. But I most certainly would not turn down the opportunity.”

  “Fine.” Marisa put her hands on her hips. “And yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. Now back to business.”

  Well, then, he had a chance. He filed that away for later and moved back to the subject of Jerry. “So did you help him out with this spell?”

  She shook her head. “No. He didn’t understand magic very well. And there was something wrong with him. He was scared. But he wasn’t in his right mind, and I wasn’t going to mess with that. I suspect he was drunk or on drugs or something. I told him to come up and talk to me—”

  “That wasn’t very safe.”

  “Jerry wouldn’t hurt me. But anyway, that’s what he said, that it wasn’t safe for me for him to come up here. Then he said thanks anyway and hung up. I didn’t know he was missing, though.”

  “It’s been in the Record.”

  “I only pick up a copy when I go into town.” She sighed and then stepped back. “Come on in, Nolan. I’m worried about him now. Let’s see what we can do together.”

  SHE WASN’T SURE she could help. Other than a few hunches like the one that stopped her from helping Jerry with the spell, she’d been anything but psychic lately. She hadn’t even had any cryptic dreams. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  She closed the door behind him.

  “If we find Jerry, and he doesn’t want us to tell his parents, what are you going to do?”

  Nolan shrugged. “It depends on the situation. But if he’s all right and not doing anything illegal, well, I’ll have to tell them he’s safe and sound, but I don’t have to go beyond that.”

  “You’ll get in trouble. His dad is a powerful man.”

  Nolan shrugged again.

  Marisa considered him. Her first take had been that he was one of those people simply too smug in his own belief system to not tell others they were wrong. But maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe, as he had said, he was simply honest with her. Either way, she was sure he wasn’t lying. “Okay, then. I’ll try to help. But I’m not sure what I can do.”

  “Well, we’ve tried police work and come up with squat for clues. We might as well try your mum—your way.”

  “My mumbo jumbo?” She chuckled at his discomfort.

  He sighed. “Your way. Whatever it is.”

  “Psychic visions. Prayers to the Goddess for insight.” She regretted the words. It wouldn’t make him feel any more comfortable. Maybe she too needed to push. To rub it in that he was coming to her for help. It wasn’t very mature of her. Especially since she didn’t expect to succeed.

  He just nodded. “Do your thing.”

  “Maybe in a few days, when the moon is full.” She’d been looking at the forecast, and it was going to be right around freezing on the first night of the full moon. She’d be wearing clothes for the ritual, she’d decided, but at least she’d be outdoors. She knew some witches who were so hung up on being naked for rituals that they blocked off nature with four walls and a roof. That seemed to her to miss the point of why witches did things sky-clad to begin with.

  He crossed the room and took a seat in the same chair he had sat on when he was topping her. But he didn’t say anything.

  She had to walk to get to where she could see his face again, although she sure as hell wasn’t going to kneel at his feet. He hadn’t put down a cushion, either, so maybe that wasn’t what he was after. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”

  “Because it doesn’t take a psychic to know what I’d say.”

  “He might not have a few days, if he’s in trouble.”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. He probably didn’t have much hope for their partnership, at least as far as finding Jerry was concerned. She ought to be the optimistic one, but she wasn’t. Nolan being there wasn’t going to suddenly make her do any better.

  Unless.

  I can’t be thinking what I’m thinking.

  All acts of love and pleasure are my rituals.

  She remembered that one crystal-clear vision she had before Nolan walked out of her life the last time. It had probably been the starkness of it that had made her so short with him, so frustrated that he wouldn’t acknowledge the reality of what she did. Either it was an amazing coincidence, or sex with him had opened a pathway. That wouldn’t surprise her. After all, the ritual with the chalice and dagger was a metaphor for sex in the first place. Why shouldn’t the real thing be even better?

  She knew right away that having sex with him wouldn’t enhance her psychic powers if that was the only reason she was doing it. She couldn’t use someone to get power—that would go against everything she was and everything she believed in.

  She looked at him. He looked back. “Having a vision?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not, but she supposed she had seemed lost in thought.

  She shook her head. He looked damn good sitting there in his tight cop pants and high cop boots. “Let’s stop talking about business a moment and talk about us. We’ll get back to the other, I promise.”

  He grinned. “Let’s talk, then.”

  She realized she didn’t have the slightest idea where to start. She knew she was still attracted to him. She was standing, and he was sitting down, and despite the fact that he was taller than her, she felt as if she was towering over him. She wanted him to take charge, to make the next move, and he was leaving it up to her. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

  She sat down on the couch. It felt too far from him. She wanted to be in his arms, but it was too soon for that. “I’ve missed you,” she admitted.

  “I’ve missed you too.”

  “I don’t know how to start up again.”

  He nodded. “How about we start with me apologizing?”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t believe in, you know, supernatural stuff. But if I’d seen a vision and pointed a cop in the right direction to find a lost little girl, I’d believe I had psychic powers too. And when you told me you had a premonition I was going to get called in, I should have believed you did. I have a hard time believing that it’s more than coincidence, but damn—you said you felt something, and I should accept that at face value, and if something happens after you feel it, well, sure.” He shrugged. “So I was out of line to mock it. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. If he’d done a complete about-face, she’d have known he was willing to do anything to get in bed with her. Which would be flattering in a way, but it would have chilled her. She preferred honesty. “You don’t have to believe for me to be attracted to you.”

  “Good thing.” He took a breath. “But for all that, I want you to do the rituals you need to do and try your best to find out what happened to Jerry Mackey. Inconsistent of me, isn’t it?”

  “You believe what you believe. That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for doubt. There are times I doubt what I believe too. I’m sorry for shutting the door on you.” She wasn’t sure explaining how clear her vision had been or why she’d felt so strongly right then would help or hurt, so she decided to save that for later. She didn’t need him to believe in her psychic ability. She needed him to believe she wasn’t crazy or a liar.

  “Since my boss is going to think I’m pulling one over on him if I take you into town for a date, I only know of one way for us to restart.”

  “What’s that?” She wondered if she sounded too eager.

  “Where we left off. Bring a cushion from the couch if you wish, because I want you in front of me. On your knees.”

  She hesitated for a moment. Could it be that simple? Then she stood up, picked up
the cushion she’d been sitting on, and plopped it on the floor in front of him. She knelt there, letting her knees sink into the softness. “Yes, Sir,” she said fervently.

  “Good girl,” he said. His hand caressed her neck, moving from the side of it to where it met her collarbone.

  “Would you like me to hang your jacket up, Sir?” she asked. She had the heat turned up enough that she was comfortable in a T-shirt and jeans. He had to be roasting.

  “Nah. I can throw it on the couch.” He took his jacket off and tossed it where the cushion had been. “You can take your shirt off, though, as long as we’re stripping.”

  “It’s not exactly the same,” she pointed out.

  “No, it isn’t.” He grinned. “And I don’t think either of us would want it to be.”

  She inwardly cursed him for being right, took a deep breath, and pulled her shirt over her head. She would have chosen a different bra if she’d known it was going to be seen. The one she wore was plain, white, and utilitarian, and she was only wearing it because her black ones were drying on the clotheshorse. She avoided his gaze, looking down at his knees instead and then at his crotch. He wasn’t hard, but there was still plenty there.

  He brushed the back of his hand across her chest, and her nipples tightened in response. Her heart pounded. Am I really so easy? Yet why should desire be difficult, just because it always has been?

  He raised his hand and tilted her chin up until she had no choice but to look at him. Then he kissed her. From anyone else it would have felt tentative, a nibbling kiss that worked around the edges of her mouth. From him she knew it was teasing. Her lips opened. He pressed his lips against them and took possession of her with his tongue. His hands held her, one on each cheek, keeping her exactly where he wanted her.