by Heather Long
“Hey, boy,” Grady was saying. “Go get the team. Tell them to come…”
“And what? Get Timmy out of the well?” Not kicking Grady took every ounce of my self-control. “He’s a spell-brador, not freakin’ Lassie.”
“Hey, now, don’t knock the collie. She had style.” My nemesis stood and dusted the splinters and dust off his shoulders. Limping over to the door, he repeated my check, then at the window, the back door, and finally the fireplace.
“Really?” I rubbed my gloved hands together and the fabric reshaped itself, sliding free of my fingers, then up my arms until the sleeves shortened. Even my collar dropped back to a V. Thankfully, I didn’t want to roast alive. If not for the pink, heart-shaped bed, candlelit dinner table, and bottle of champagne, this place wouldn’t be so bad.
Champagne?
Pivoting, I stopped looking for an exit and stared around the room.
This wasn’t a hideout, it was a love nest.
Sliding a look toward the shielded open front door, my worst fears were confirmed.
Karma had disappeared.
The only reason my spell-brador would leave me in this situation was because he’d put me in it.
Son. Of. A. Bi…
“Damn, babe.” Grady slung an arm around my tensed shoulders. “If you wanted me this bad, all you had to do was ask.”
Grady
The old saying is true, behind every good man there’s an incredible woman. - Grady Hammersmith
He totally deserved the elbow jab she delivered to his gut. Letting her go, he raked his fingers through his hair. More wood chips came loose, and his hand came away damp with a little blood. Must have hit his head harder than he thought. “Don’t worry about Karma. I’ll get the guys over here, and they’ll de-hex the trap. See, having me around is useful.”
Only, she wasn’t listening to him. Instead, she was running her hands over the shield. After shrugging off his jacket, he touched his earlobe to activate the communication spell. “Guys? Need some backup at the cabin in the woods.”
Instead of ribbing and ribald remarks from his team, Grady only heard silence. Touching his ear again, he focused his will. The twist of a communication spell had been taught to him in the cradle. Or so his parents always said, because how else were they supposed to handle his demanding appetite?
“Guys?”
Nothing.
Pursing his lips, Grady slanted a look toward Madison. She was testing the shield’s integrity using the sparks of lightning jumping from her fingertips. Every collision illuminated the shield as it dispersed the lightning.
“It’s a diamond,” he said, probably telling her what she already knew.
“No shit Spell-lock, any other great ideas you want to share?” The lightning shots gave way to fire, then to hard pounds of air and finally to ice. The ice shimmered over the diamond pattern, solidifying against the inside and giving them both a solid look at the intricacy of the work.
“Crafted by a master.” If he already had one foot in the grave, he might as well jump.
Though she didn’t look at him, she did tilt her head enough that he could imagine he had her attention. “Are you going to say anything useful or just try to bait me?”
“Not trying to bait you,” he said, then added. “Well, not totally. I just think better aloud.”
“Don’t want those thoughts to die of loneliness?” Was that a trace of a smile he could almost hear softening her words?
“Something like that.” Dragging his attention away from how good black looked on her slender form, Grady studied their makeshift prison. A cabin in the woods. Trapped by a spell. “It’s like Hansel and Gretel.”
“Except we’re not siblings, we didn’t get dropped off by a woodcutter, and we’re not trapped with a wicked witch.”
Talk about a buzzkill.
“Well, if you want to tear it all down,” he said, eyeing the heart-shaped bed. That thing was ridiculous. But was it comfortable? “We’re the witch hunters, and we’re trapped inside a magical cabin.”
“If you want to be specific, we walked into a trap, and I said it was a trap outside, but you didn’t listen.”
“Oh, I listened. I came to check it out. I was being manly and protective. I was going to take the hit for you. Not my fault you got all touchy.” Anticipating her next move, he blocked the pillow, which she’d flung at him from the bed and grinned. When she was striking back, he knew he’d gotten her attention. Dropping the pillow on the bed, he paced the room. He’d sent the earring off, and it ended up in here. He’d half-expected it to embed in a tree—the distance from where he’d jumped through versus the cabin itself was easily a half-mile away.
Interesting. His spell wouldn’t have done that.
“Dammit.” Madison shot to her feet, then paced the room with her hands on her hips. “This makes no sense. What showgirl has this kind of power?”
“Beats me. Maybe she isn’t a showgirl.” Hell, all he’d gotten from Cyrus was the bond came from some exclusive casino resort. The man in charge was not one to be trifled with—so pick her up, bag her, and return her.
It wasn’t even an alive or dead pick up, it was definitely alive.
“Cyrus said she was a showgirl.” The irritation in Madison’s voice climbed to a precipitous height.
“Seems like Cyrus is hedging his bets.” Okay, time to come clean. “All he told me was she’d stolen something from the casino, and they wanted her back in one piece.”
Whirling, Madison squinted at him. “Did he specify what she stole?”
Come to think of it… “No,” Grady said slowly. “I don’t usually care what they took or why.”
“But Cyrus usually specifies what it is we have to get back, even if it’s not the jumper.” Madison had a point. Bonds weren’t always on the witches or sorcerers who realm hopped. It was on the items they took with them.
“What did he tell you?” Because he was damn curious.
Mutiny reflected in the way she twisted her lips and echoed in the tap of her booted foot against the wooden floor. Letting her stew over whether to share or not, Grady walked over to the table and popped the cork on the champagne. It was cold, and a whiff of magic lifted the silver dome on the food. Hot-cow-on-a-bone—real ribs! The smell had his mouth watering.
“What are you doing?” Madison’s harsh invective intruded.
“Fleeing a ball at midnight, what does it look like I’m doing?” He poured two glasses of champagne, then held one out to her. “None of it’s enchanted, so come and sit down. We might as well eat and have a glass of champagne while we figure this puzzle out.”
“How do you know it’s not spelled?”
Not sighing, Grady continued to hold the champagne glass out to her. “Because air and fire are my specialties. Food that’s been magicked or enchanted has a different scent, not that you need me to explain this to you. You’re very well aware of the fact. So, take a whiff and test it yourself.”
To his delight, she stalked over to the table and took the glass. When he lifted the silver dome on the second plate, Madison gasped.
Since the ribs were his favorite, he had to guess that a red raisin populated bed of greens with onions, cucumbers, fruit, and grilled chicken was hers. Huh.
“It’s cran-raspberry chicken. I…” The loss of tension in her shoulders, and the way she fell into the chair worried him. “I haven’t had this in years.”
“Apparently, this is a magic cabin—pardon the pun. The ribs? I haven’t had them fall off the bone ready like this since Gammlemor made them for me. She is the only person I’ve ever known who made them perfect.”
Madison’s deep, brown-eyed gaze seemed to rivet on him. “My grandmother made this salad. It was our magic salad.”
Lifting his champagne, he smiled at her. “To magical grandparents. May they always hold the mysteries we want to solve.”
Shockingly enough, she didn’t hesitate to clink her glass to his. Talk about making progress. As
one, they each took a sip of the champagne. He nodded once, then leaned to the side to look at the open door. The ice had begun to melt, but the shield was still in place.
Madison followed his gaze. “What did you think, we’d share a toast, sip champagne, and the spell-lock would give way?”
“Couldn’t hurt. Someone locked us in here, and it’s not some thieving showgirl.”
“Witness,” Madison admitted. “She’s supposed to turn state’s evidence against the casino, but she ran. They need her back to testify.”
That was a hell of a concession. “Then Cyrus is lying to you or he’s lying to me.”
After taking another sip of champagne, she snapped out a napkin and laid it across her lap before picking up a fork. “Who says he isn’t lying to both of us?”
Mirroring her actions, Grady took a drink of his champagne and let the idea ping around in his brain. Cyrus set them up. Cyrus, a matchmaker? Not hardly. Cyrus, offering services for sale, and arranging this weird ambush? Totally possible.
“I want to propose an alliance—maybe a short-lived one—but something I think we can both get behind.”
Eyebrows raised, she studied his expression. “I’m listening.”
“When we get out of this, and we will get out of this, you and I go hunting Cyrus, and beat the answers out of him.”
Raising her glass, she clinked it to his. “I’ll drink to that.”
Sliding his gaze back to the shield door, Grady grunted and took a sip of his champagne. Deal sealed. They were partners and Cyrus was in a lot of trouble.
In the meanwhile, they were still trapped.
And it came with ribs and a beautiful woman he actually liked.
Not bad as snares went. Not bad at all.
Chapter 3
Madison
I’m not here to make your days suck less. – Madison, The Witch Hunter
Three days into our sojourn in the woods, and two things continued to amaze me—Karma hadn’t returned, and I hadn’t killed Grady yet. The intricacy of the spellwork was beyond anything I’d ever examined. I might be an unending fountain of magical energy—well trained, and more than capable of holding my own against the biggest and baddest the magical community could throw at me—but I wasn’t this creative or inventive.
I didn’t make shit happen.
The spell on this place not only kept us and the warmth in while keeping the snow out, it fed us regularly. After a meal, we covered the plates with our silver domes and when we returned to the table, a fresh meal would be waiting for us. We waited it out 24 hours on our first day—personal note, Grady’s a damn bear when he can’t eat—and the meal was appropriate to the time of day.
What totally sold me on how creative this magic was—the coffee. Pots and pots of it, always fresh, always hot, and always ready exactly when I needed it. If I weren’t trapped here with tall, blond, and too damn hot for his good, it might also be a vacation.
The bathroom included a hot tub and a shower, another saving grace. I might have to listen to him, but I didn’t have to smell him. The door to the bathroom opened just as I took a sip of my fresh cup of coffee, and Grady strutted out wearing nothing but a towel.
“I am so glad I already finished my breakfast,” I said without turning around to look at him. I could see him just fine in the mirror over the dresser. As cabins went, this place was a cozy ideal. Perfect for a romantic escapade.
Terrible as a prison, unless the idea was to punish me for some sins I hadn’t committed yet.
“I’m starving.” Grady sat down in the chair across from mine, the towel gaping over a powerful thigh as he lifted the silver dome to reveal a prime rib, two fried eggs, and crispy potatoes. Despite her own poached eggs, hash browns and a waffle, the steam wafting up from the meal made her hungry.
“So much so that you can’t be bothered to get dressed before you dive in?” Admitting how distracting I found his shirtless form didn’t do my cause any good.
“Absolutely, but if you’re feeling overdressed, there are plenty more towels in the bathroom.”
“As if I’d give you the pleasure.” Coffee. Focus on the coffee. It had helped me survive this long.
“I don’t expect you to give me any pleasure.” The pause was so significant; I could almost hear the period. Then he added, “At least not until I earn it.”
What? Meeting his glowing blue eyes, I scowled. “Earn it? I’m not some prize or paycheck at the end of a long and arduous week.”
“You know what’s funny,” Grady said as he cut into his steak. “You believe that’s all I think about you. And, to be fair, I’m a mouthy guy. I can’t say you don’t have your reasons to think that. But have I hit on you, even once, since we agreed to be partners? Have I made one untoward move in your direction after we decided to split our time, one in the bed and one on the floor? Have I stolen a peek at you while you’re in the shower? Hidden your clothes? Any other sleazy stuff?”
Lowering my coffee cup, I studied him. Gone was the smug smirk and in its place, an honest smile. Even bare, save for the towel, he wasn’t flashing me or trying to lean in my direction.
“You’re right. Being cooped up is driving me crazy.”
“I know,” he said, then took a bite and chewed it. That was it? He knew? After he washed the bite down with some orange juice, he added, “Just focus on how we’re going to pay Cyrus back for this. It’s what’s getting me through the day. That and troubleshooting the spellwork.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it.” As much as I hated to admit it, I said, “I’m stumped.”
“Then we stop working at odds and work together.” After pointing his fork at me, he gestured to the rest of the room. “Between us, we can take down a herd of ogres. Somewhere in this mess is a weak spot. Let me finish my breakfast and you can get that third cup of coffee in you, and we’ll see about huffing and puffing and blowing this house down.”
“We’re not wolves.” I sighed, but I didn’t try to hide the smile tugging at my lips.
“Too bad.” The transformation was noticeable this time, his playful smirk resumed. “I’d love to make eating you jokes.”
Groaning, I hugged the mug with my hands and took another long drink. Grady being right so much was also making me crazy. Of course, I did need that third cup. Three cups, and no one got hurt.
The man needed more flaws. Can I ask you a question?” I’d waited until he’d dressed. We might be stuck with the same clothes, but the same spell feeding us, keeping the weather out, and trapping us inside also kept our clothes clean and fresh. With so many layers weaved into the spell, I could honestly say I was baffled at not only how you’d go about putting it together much less combining it so well that not even raw hammers of power could dislodge it.
“Shoot,” Grady answered as he dropped to sit on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. Still shirtless, the action sent muscles rippling across his chest.
“What are you exactly?” It was a wildly inappropriate question. Since we were roommates and partners for the time being, I gave into temptation. “Witch? Magician? Shifter?”
Just because I’d never seen him transform didn’t mean he couldn’t.
Straightening, Grady lifted a hand to shove his dark blond hair away from his face. It was shoulder length, and the color of golden sunshine. Everything about him was larger than life.
“Mother is a Sorceress, a gifted one. Father is…well, he’s a bit of a wanderer. Gammelfar, he was always a bear.” Then he winked. “If you’re looking for me to go furry, you’ll have to live with disappointment. I can talk to the birds of the air, or at least they talk to me, but I don’t turn into a quadruped.”
“That explains your size.” It wasn’t terribly out of the question for Shifter blood to dilute, especially if mingled with an especially powerful witch line. Something about the way Grady said Wanderer reminded me that not everything out the world fell into comfortable categories. Safer for everyone to leave it alone.
“Does my size bother you?” Leaving his shirt on the bed, he crossed to where I still sat at the table and held out his hand.
Gliding my palm over his, I let him tug me from the chair. Damn, the man was big. I was nearly 5’10” and he towered over me. “Not even a little bit. Most male witches aren’t built like you.”
“Someone’s been checking me out.”
“You’re very hard to ignore.” I lowered my lashes, then ordered my gaze to stay on his chiseled features and not his fantastically carved abdominals or impressive pectorals.
With almost childlike glee, he lifted his hands in the air. The double fist pump accompanied by a delighted, “Yes!” did what little else of his activities had managed.
I laughed, and it was a freeing sensation. At least until I snort-giggled in the middle of it and my chuckle became a cackle.
“That’s a beautiful sound,” he said, and the thickness in his voice arrested me.
“Me laughing?” I used to be self-conscious about the less than lady-like noise I made when I belly-laughed. The snort, of all things, was hardly attractive. The cackle, though, had earned me far more teasing.
“Yeah, I like it.” The ease in the curve of his lips hid no ulterior motive. “You never laugh when you’re with me—and I mean the real one, not the cool, dismissive, you’re about to kick my ass one you use when you’re anything but amused.”
Huh. The thought sobered me. “I’m not the most people of people persons.” Far from it. My best friend was a spell-brador, who was so in the doghouse considering he’d abandoned me. I hadn’t seen hide nor tail of him since.
“You don’t have to be a people person. You don’t have to be anything. I like you, bites and all.” His admission stunned me.
Frowning, I twisted away from him. He was too close. “What are you talking about?”
“Not a damn thing, gorgeous. Just that I like you, and I like our alliance.” He delivered the last four words while holding his palms forward. “That said, you want to bite and claw me, go for it. I can take it.”