Playing the Witch's Game (Keepers of the Veil)

by Zoe Forward

  He’d do that as soon as he convinced her the TV show was a bad idea.

  She moistened her lips.

  Maybe just one taste.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his body. She gasped when she collided with his erection. His accent thickened. “Let’s say we could get beyond the fact that I faked my death last year in order to disappear from the world. Television would jeopardize my supposed death, although most who care are dead.” Except one, but she already knows I’m alive. “Perhaps I could build myself a credible background. But you and me as a couple on camera? I’m too old for you.”

  “You’re only thirty-four.” She gazed up, stubbornness written on her face.

  “We’d have to stop arguing. We’d have to touch. Perhaps, even…” He pressed his lips gently against hers. The kiss was barely a tease. The move had been meant to shake her into realizing the idiocy of this scenario. But his body jolted with mind-numbing, too-long-denied need for her.

  She sucked in a startled breath. His brain switched off rational. The need to taste her became all that mattered. He teased the seam of her lips and pulled her tighter against him, trapping her hands between them. His tongue slipped past the barrier of her lips. She tasted of sweet tea and something richly evocative.

  She held herself rigid at first, but after a few sweeps of his tongue against hers, she groaned. Her tongue tangled back. Instinct reared itself, potent and dominant, demanding he claim her.

  Stop.

  Her hands fisted his shirt, holding him in place. She nibbled on his lip. He growled and pivoted to trap her back against the wall. Her hands wormed their way to the back of his head and scratched deep into his scalp. The kiss turned deeper, more sensual.

  Holy shit. He was about to lose it and get them both naked right here against the kitchen wall. The idea had merit, but probably wouldn’t score him any good-boy points later. Unforgettable points…most definitely.

  She jerked away from his mouth. “Get off me. I have a guy…at least I almost do. He’s not you.”

  He released her. She had a guy? Someone other than him?

  Oh, hell no.

  Wasn’t she looking for a fill-in boyfriend, which implied no committed relationship? He stepped away from her, fisting his hands against the need to pull her back into his arms. And demonstrate he was her guy.

  Let her go. If he took her back into his arms, he’d lose her forever. She’d be killed.

  But denying the depth of his physical need for her spun his mind with panic. To mask his internal chaos, he fell into his player persona. “Kissing might work. You better pray the producers give us clothes, because us naked for however long the show runs might be bad for both of us. They’d probably haze out the private parts, though.”

  “Naked? They wouldn’t dare show us naked.” She stared up at him, bewildered.

  He bit back a laugh. “It makes better TV. They did it a few seasons ago. Why do you need to do this?”

  She cast him a wild look and marched back to the table to grab her tea. Two gulps and one deep breath later she said, “There’s this guy. You know what I am. Like your sister-in-law, I must find my destined guy and have a family, at least a daughter, just in case I die too early. That way there’s a girl to inherit all the gifts. I think I found him, but he…well, he’s being difficult. He challenged me to get on this TV show he’s hosting before he’ll take our relationship to the next level. He’s the host of Extreme Survivor.”

  “What?” I’m your destined, damn it. He managed to grit out, “I don’t get it. Does he like girls?” Vaguely, he recalled the host of the show. He’d never been an avid watcher, but he’d watched when he found nothing else of interest on TV.

  She nodded. “Pretty sure.”

  “You threw yourself at this man who’s supposed to be matched to you by the gods, but he slammed on the brakes? Then he required you go on a TV show before he might fu…uh, take you to bed?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “It’s not always about sex, you know.”

  “Angel, it’s always about sex. What this guy required isn’t right. You know that, don’t you?” He made a sweep of her beautiful petite body, lingering on her breasts. A vintage silver gilt pendant with an enameled blue center hung from a sturdy silver chain around her neck. Pretty, but a sense of unease tickled down his spine. Something was off about the piece. Maybe it was an ancestral heirloom, bespelled with a protective charm. He cleared his throat and pulled his gaze off her chest. “Any man who finds girls attractive would give… Let’s just say he wouldn’t say no to your offering.”

  She put a hand on her hip. “He’s not easy like you. Obviously, if I said take me on the kitchen floor now, you’d be naked in two seconds.”

  “I suggest the counter.” He cocked his head in evaluation of the counter. “Better angle possibilities.”

  “Will you do it?” Her face flamed bright red. “Not the kitchen counter. Will you be my pretend boyfriend?”

  He stared at her in silence. And shook his head. He didn’t want to fake being her boyfriend. If he did anything with Jen now or in the future, it wouldn’t be part-time, and it’d be legit. He was only here to warn her.

  But to safeguard her from the threat, he had to stick by her like glue for the next week. His plan involved protecting from the shadows. That way the risk to her being associated with him dropped to minimal. If she disappeared to some remote wilderness location on this TV show, he might never get to her in time when the vision haunting him played out. The two questions he’d mulled over for days shot to the front of his mind. Was he willing to die for her? And, would he risk her becoming as stalked as he was by claiming her publicly?

  She pointed at him. “You owe me.”

  “I do not. I saved your life from witch hunters last year. I got shot in the process, in case you forgot. You extracted bullets. You did your magical poultice thing. We’re even.”

  “We’re not even by a long shot.”

  “I’m still not doing this. I can’t be on TV. We can’t be on TV.”

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. He had the urge to laugh. Damn, she was hot when angry. Most people took his no at face value, too terrified to challenge. But this petite thing planned to threaten him. He wanted to kiss her again.

  “You stole from me. You owe me.” She glared at him.

  “Not enough to do something this crazy. It costs a lot to hire me.” He shouldn’t say yes. She’d obviously been out tonight looking for some poor schmuck to do this. If he said no, then she might go to another bar. On top of that, she admitted she wanted to sleep with a man other than him. Something deeply primal reared its ugly head, demanding he fight for her. “There’s a lot of risk in this for both of us.”

  “How much will it cost me to hire you?”

  He seesawed his lower jaw and gazed at her. A price tag she wouldn’t pay might dissuade her. He respected her resolve, even if her plan was absurd. She thought she could take care of herself, but he saw her vulnerability. She needed his protection, which right now demanded dissuasion. If he didn’t discourage her, he’d follow her and make sure any other guy she chose disappeared.

  Jen wasn’t a woman who slept around, or even had boyfriends, an assessment he based on covertly monitoring her over the past year. He liked her relatively untouched status. “You will make me another healing potion. And we get one night together.”

  “What? Don’t you want money?” Her grip on the mug of tea tightened to the point her knuckles turned white.

  In three strides he had his arms around her. He pulled the mug out of her hand and put it on the table. “I don’t need money. My price is the potion and one night. Let me be clear on this night.” He leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Wild, dirty sex. We explore boundaries. Do you know how far you can go?”

  Based on her stunned look, he guessed she’d never done wild and dirty. She might still be a virgin. He liked the thought of being the first to bring her into the world of the sen
sual.

  He stepped away. Guilt cramped his gut at the wrongness of the price. But he needed her to say no to the TV show idea. His willpower to deny her vanished with one wide-eyed help me look.

  “One night?” Her deer-in-headlights gaze seemed appropriate. Being a contestant on a reality TV show that involved extreme challenges in the wilderness had a giant oh shit flashing in neon lights over his head.

  He wondered if she’d conjured some sort of magic to make him talk himself into this insanity. Probably not. This had everything to do with her thinking some other asshole was her forever guy. “You can say no. We shouldn’t do this.” Come on, opt out.

  Even though he wanted that one night with her, he probably wouldn’t collect on his price, at least not until he eliminated the larger threat looming over her. This was about protection only.

  She cleared her throat, then said, “Be here nine a.m. tomorrow. Interview is at eleven.”

  His brain churned with a monster freak-out over the logistical nightmare of a reality TV show. If he was going public with his interest in her, there was no greater billboard than the most popular reality TV show in the U.S. With a giant mental damn it, he said, “Nine thirty. Salons aren’t open earlier.”

  Chapter Three

  “Alexi, I need a deep background check.” In his native Lithuanian Nikolai added, “Prasŏm.” Please. He slipped into the shadows of an alley between the buildings across from the Italian restaurant to which he’d tracked Owen Campbell. Finding the prick had been disgustingly easy. Owen posted his almost every move on Twitter. Based on the glamorous guests waving to paparazzi, a few of whom he recognized from blockbuster movies, this was a late-night A-list event.

  Silence came from the other end of the phone to the point he checked to ensure he hadn’t lost the connection. He cleared his throat and envisioned his older brother relishing this moment when for the first time ever Nikolai asked for his help. They might both be ex-FSB contractors, but they hadn’t started collaborating on freelance missions until six months ago when Alexi and Serenity got together. Prior to that, their only contact for decades had been a few terse arguments over familial responsibility. Serenity had already convinced them to work three private contract jobs together. He liked it. A lot. Alexi and Serenity were an effective and lethal team, with her badass ex-MI6 status and Alexi’s death-reaper super-assassin ability.

  “Why can’t you find this information?” Alexi asked. “You are far better than me at this kind of research.”

  “I don’t have access to equipment that can do more than a surface scan right now. This concerns the promise I made to you last year.” He watched Owen emerge from a limo. Medium height, light hair, stylish five o’clock shadow, and pale-colored eyes. What did Jen see in this pretty boy? He came off like a standard Hollywood dickwad. Yet the guy’s preternatural power radiated off the chart. Surprising. What was he?

  Into the phone Nikolai said, “This is about the witch whose potion I stole to save your life.”

  “Do you think she’s it for you? What’s her name?”

  “Jen.” He cringed as he added, “She’s like Serenity.”

  “A Pleiades? Do you refer to Jennifer Marcos?” Alexi’s tone lost all hint of humor.

  “Yes.”

  Another lengthy pause. Nikolai watched Owen laugh with his supermodel date, who towered over him by several inches. The couple sauntered up the restaurant’s stairs, pausing to wave at the paparazzi. Owen’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. According to Owen’s fans on Twitter, Owen had dated this supermodel off and on for about three years and used her for events.

  Nikolai wouldn’t approach him in the club. Tonight was about information-gathering only, the first part of any hunt. Old habits never died.

  “You didn’t mention this information about her before. I’m not sure I would’ve made you promise to visit her. You know not to mess around with these women.” In the background he heard Serenity ask his brother, “Who is it?” There was a muffled conversation during which he heard Jen’s name tossed around several times.

  Nikolai asked, “Did you suddenly grow a conscience now that you married one of the witches? You never stipulated I needed to be serious when I approached the witch again. Only that I confront her. In exchange, you drank Jen’s healing potion, and it saved your ass. I did what I promised, and now the woman has sucked me into a truly wack situation.”

  “You simply cannot… Jen isn’t one of your one-night stands. Most of these girls don’t do that, especially Jen, at least according to Serenity. And what about Anaïs?”

  Dread slithered like ice down his spine at the thought of his stalker. “I haven’t felt her nearby in a long time. Perhaps she gave up.”

  “That necromancer will never stop until she owns your soul. Talk about one-nighters from hell. How could you have been so stupid?”

  Owen moved out of Nikolai’s sightline, swallowed up by the chaos of cameras and people in front of the club. Nikolai hadn’t intended to enter the club, but recognizing Owen as a fellow magic-wielder made it tempting to tail him.

  Alexi cleared his throat. “You still there?”

  “Yeah. I don’t remember what happened that night. The bitch drugged me.”

  “Why is she really after you? She’s treacherous, and her death has been sanctified by Hades, which is enough for me to hunt her down. But why’s she after you? Give me a straight answer or I won’t do this background check. No dodging like you’ve been doing for the past year.”

  “This isn’t about revenge because I denied the woman long-term. She wants to mother a next-generation death reaper. She believes it will give her power to control a super assassin directed by Hades.”

  Alexi laughed. “It’s a bloody curse to be that god’s servant to usher evil souls to hell. We don’t even know if the next generation will be your son or mine.”

  “You changed the game when you married Serenity. I would assume, since it’s always been the son of the brother of the current death reaper, it’ll be my son.”

  “Didn’t you tell Anaïs the choice of woman isn’t yours to make? The gods like to control that particular decision.”

  “She isn’t the listening type. I think she plans to steal my chosen woman’s soul. Then she thinks I’ll be unable to resist her. I don’t think the gods would allow a surrogate to mother the death reaper.”

  “Is Jennifer your chosen?” Alexi asked.

  The crowd parted, and Owen reappeared on the sidewalk. He gazed around as if seeking something or someone. Owen stared directly into the shadowed alley where Nikolai hid. Owen’s brows drooped low and he pointed for no more than a second.

  A warning.

  But warning of what? Maybe Owen wanted to convey he was aware Nikolai watched. Maybe this was about Jen. Perhaps this was a warning to stay away from her, or a warning of danger to come?

  Alarm shifted his brain into threat-analysis mode. A mental scan came up with no people of magical skills other than Owen in the area. No one moved toward him. No threat from above. Owen’s detecting him when he remained invisible to most humans in this alley meant the guy was powerful, and not one to underestimate.

  Owen disappeared into the club.

  “Damn it. Are you there, Nik?” Alexi asked.

  “Still here. You asked about Jen and me. It’s possible.”

  “That means yes. This is bad on so many levels. You even being near Jen, if she’s the one for you…until I can kill Anaïs, you need to stay far away from Jen. We can suggest that the druids ramp up Jen’s protection until we resolve the Anaïs situation. We’re close to getting her. So close.”

  “Agreed.” Nikolai’s mind spun with the implications of Owen’s detecting him. Of that small gesture. Shit. He needed help. He needed his brother. “Jen coerced me into something so messed up that I’m still stunned I said yes.”

  “What kind of messed up?”

  “She wants me to pretend to be her boyfriend for a TV show.”

  The exp
ected laugh didn’t come from Alexi’s end. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You cannot go on television. Anaïs will—”

  “It’s a death sentence for Jen once Anaïs sees us,” Nikolai interrupted. “It gets worse. Jen wants us to go on Extreme Survivor as a couple. It’s one of the most popular reality television shows in the States. The guy Jen thinks is her destined required she get on the show before he’d take her to bed.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. If they were meant to be, there’s no way, if she was willing, that he’d…but you think she’s the one for you?”

  “I hope I’m wrong about us, not that I don’t find her attractive. But it’d be safer for her if she isn’t meant to be my mate. Besides, no matched couple would ever want to be on TV. This risks…”

  “Do you think there’s magic involved in this?” Alexi asked.

  “This is a witch we’re discussing.” His mind snapped back to Owen.

  “Right. You said yes? You, who avoid all employment that involves the jungle or wilderness scenarios, said yes?”

  “The woman can be very persuasive. We came to an agreement.” One night. After seeing Owen he might just follow through on the price tag, consequences be damned with regard to Anaïs. If they survived to the show’s ending and she wanted it, he’d ensure they had an unforgettable night. He’d never force Jen, but based on their kiss, she’d want it.

  He was delusional to even think one night would be enough. After his taste last night he already knew he couldn’t walk away from Jen a second time.

  Alexi asked, “The jungle? If I hadn’t saved your ass, you would’ve died the last time you had a job located in one.”

  “Bullshit. I saved my own ass.”