Hollywood Demon (The Collegium Book 6)

by Schwartz, Jenny

  His fingertips left her chin, but only for his hand to slide around and cup the back of her head as his face came nearer and nearer.

  She closed her eyes as his mouth caressed hers. Her lips parted to the soft, coaxing pressure of his; to their shared curiosity and growing pleasure. It was kiss of shivering delight and discovery, and she felt the moment when her shudder of response transmitted itself to him.

  His mouth hardened with passion and he backed her up against the bookshelves, trapping her against a vertical support that aligned with her spine. She arched against him, shoulders pressing against a shelf, as their kiss went nuclear. Hot, so hot. She craved the flavor of him, and chased it, licking his lower lip. He growled and flicked his tongue into her mouth, stroking hers, growling again when she sucked him.

  He tore his mouth from hers, but only to search out the pulse beating at the base of her throat. His teeth scraped lightly as he unbuttoned her white shirt.

  So good. That felt so good. She gripped his butt, forgetting everything but the urgent need to take more. She rubbed against him, hampered by her tight skirt and their differences in height.

  He picked her up and set her on the second rung of the ladder. Her bare feet curled around the rung. It was like freefalling, leaning back against the slant of the ladder, crowded by Mark. It was exciting and dangerous. He pushed open her shirt, and pushed down the lace cups of her bra. She followed his gaze to where her pink nipples jutted from the white lace.

  Holding her gaze, he nibbled on one. No teeth, just teasing lips. Her insecure perch made writhing unwise. She whimpered, a sound she’d never made before. Then gasped. “Mark!”

  He established a sucking rhythm that somehow matched the pulse low in her belly.

  “Please, oh please.” She was touching him anywhere she could, her hips thrusting in tiny movements to his rhythm, her fingers threading through his hair.

  “Your mouth.” It was an order. One foot on the first rung of the ladder, one on the floor, lying over her, he took her mouth.

  Tremors of pleasure like a mini-orgasm as their kiss went on and on, until the ladder gave a warning creak. It was too much excitement for the wooden structure. Mark lifted her away, instantly.

  She swayed on her feet, her balance lost in every sense. He walked around his desk, dropped into his chair, and lowered the arms of its ergonomic design. She hitched up her skirt and straddled him. He bucked beneath her and groaned.

  They both went still.

  It had been heated foreplay, but it was only foreplay. Anything more, though, and they’d be having sex. He was hard and full, and she ached between her legs. Actual pain low in her pelvis because she wanted him so much.

  But if they did this…

  She’d never had casual sex. For her, it was always about loving and being loved. She knew herself well enough to know that casual sex with Mark would destroy her. Maybe not immediately. Right now, she was all raw instinct and just wanted him. But later…she’d avoid the estate and the cottage, lose the chamber, because coming here would become mixed up with wanting and needing and not having him. Mark wasn’t ready for a relationship.

  That was the truth. He was still hung up on Phoebe. Maybe not loving his ex-fiancée, but scarred from her betrayal.

  “We can’t.” Two words that made her throat hurt as she forced them out.

  Blue eyes darkened with passion, their pupils wide with arousal, stared into hers. His hands moved restlessly at her hips. “Clancy?”

  She didn’t know what he was asking. Wasn’t sure if he knew. “If we do this, everything changes. I don’t think I can handle that.”

  His hands stilled. His roughened breathing slowed. They stared at one another. He traced the line of her spine from tailbone to her neck. She shivered and involuntarily petted his chest.

  He closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, his passion was shackled and locked down. Very gently he readjusted her bra, re-buttoned her shirt, and straightened its collar.

  She absorbed the caring of those small touches, stored them up as memories as precious as the passion they’d shared, before sliding off him. She tugged down her skirt, and looked up to see him watching her.

  “You’re right.” A growl edged his voice, deepening its timbre. “Our lives are too interwoven, past and present.”

  “And future,” she added. She felt shaky and cold without the heat of him against her. She folded her arms, trying to hug in some warmth. “I guess I’ll see you—”

  His phone rang. At some point he’d placed it on his desk. Now, they both saw the caller’s name. Gilda.

  With a grimace of apology for her, Mark picked it up.

  Gilda’s voice was loud over the phone. Clancy heard her clearly. “You were right. There was a demon here, a powerful one. You need to take precautions.”

  “I’ve been doing so for seven years.”

  “Take more.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Clancy said as Mark stuffed the phone in his pocket.

  He nodded absently. “I’ll send her the draft counterspell I’ve been working on, and my thinking behind it. Maybe someone will at least look at it.”

  “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” Her cynicism came out of years of contact with the Collegium and her own current turmoil. When Mark hesitated at the first computer lined up along the far wall, she shook her head. “Ignore me. You have to send it. If this is a new way for demons to enter our world, the Collegium needs all the help it can get. It’s on them, then, if they accept or reject it.”

  “Meantime.” He tapped keys busily. “The ward on the estate is strong. We’re safe here. When you go beyond it, heed Gilda’s warning and be alert.”

  Clancy considered the risk of encountering Faust again. “How long do you think it will take them to banish Faust? Not to counter whatever his hell-born tourism plans are, but just to lock him, personally, in Hell?”

  “It depends how well he’s hidden his name.” Mark’s fingers flew over the keyboard. He was talking and composing an email simultaneously. “A couple of days, maximum.”

  She walked around restlessly. With him sitting on a low-backed chair, she wanted to cross to him, press against his back, kiss him. She paced away, bumped into the ladder, and blushed. “I’ll tell Grandma to stay here till we get the all-clear. Just in case Faust is feeling vindictive.”

  “And you’ll stay yourself?” He spun around to check.

  “I’ll stay.” Meeting his gaze, the craving to touch him became worse. “I need to exercise.”

  A wry smile curved his mouth. His very kissable mouth. “Yeah.” The energy arcing between them had to find an outlet. They could…exercise…together.

  Clancy left the study so fast that her walk was nearly a run. She was in full flight—from herself. In the kitchen, she shoved her feet into the abandoned high heels, snatched up her jacket and fled.

  Mark sat back, having emailed the counterspell and the thinking behind it to Gilda. He raked his fingers through his hair, ruffling it, thinking, regretting; conscious of sexual frustration as well as anger with the Collegium and the damn demon. He still had the taste of Clancy on his lips, or was that his memory?

  He glanced at the ladder and swore, his mind too vividly recalling the picture of her against it. How perfect her breasts had been when he’d unbuttoned that prim shirt, and her natural, sensual arousal and how it had stoked his.

  Damn! He got up and headed for his room. The only solution for his immediate problem was cold water, lots of it. He changed, jogged outside and dived into the pool. He was on his third lap when he felt someone watching him. He surfaced and blinked the water out of his eyes.

  “I…uh…” Clancy, wearing a loose t-shirt over wide-legged black trousers, stood wide-eyed. “I thought I’d exercise here on the lawn in the sun.”

  “Go for it,” he invited, treading water.

  She stared at him for a moment. Did her gaze linger on his shoulders? Then she turned away, crossed to the patch
of lawn and began stretching.

  Mark groaned to see her flexibility, and kicked off into a race-speed lap. Finally, he was tired enough that he halted with one hand on the pool edge and sucked in some much needed breaths. Automatically, he looked toward the patch of lawn and saw Clancy deep in concentration as she moved through a Taekwondo form. Power and control. So much power. Was she even aware of her strength, personal and magical? He had the sense that although she’d outgrown her shyness, she still underestimated herself.

  A demon lord had run from her earth power. That was no small achievement. Faust certainly hadn’t run from him.

  Mark planted both hands on the pool edge and hauled himself out.

  Clancy froze mid-form and simply stared at him. Her gaze tracked the water running down his body to puddle at his feet.

  Despite his muscles burning from all the swimming, his body hardened under her gaze. He reached for a towel, to dry himself and to hide the evidence of his arousal.

  Clancy continued with her exercises.

  He dried off while observing her. She was right. If they got involved things would change. But would change be such a bad thing?

  He strode into the house and into a hot shower to wash the pool water off. Shampoo stung his eyes. He rinsed, dressed and hesitated. He didn’t know what to do. He checked his phone, but the only messages were business-related and could wait. Gilda hadn’t acknowledged his emailed counterspell. It was precisely what he’d expected, but it still left a sour feeling.

  He walked to a window that overlooked the pool. The lawn beside the swimming pool was empty. Clancy had gone.

  The next time they met, would she expect him to behave as if he hadn’t kissed her, hadn’t sucked her breasts, had only just stopped himself from stripping her naked and doing his best to make her scream with pleasure?

  “Clancy.” No longer the girl he remembered. She was a woman learning her own strength. She appealed to him on more than just the physical level. She was honest and real.

  His gut muscles clenched as a thought struck with the speed of a rattlesnake. What if she didn’t want to get involved with him because he lacked magic? She had power, even if she was ambivalent about embracing it. He had money and connections, but not in the magical world. Perhaps she wanted someone who could match her strength. In magical terms, that could never be him.

  Chapter 8

  “Grandma! I promised Mark we’d stay on the estate for a couple of days. Just till the demon is caught, banished, whatever it is Gilda intends to do with it.” It was Sunday morning. Clancy was awake and dressed, and contemplating a morning watching re-runs of old cartoons on television. Outside, a fine rain drizzled down. Inside was warm and cozy.

  Doris stood before her in the kitchen, dressed to go out. Her raincoat was a cheerful yellow, worn open over a flouncy red skirt the color of her hair and a snug purple sweater. “No demon is keeping me from Mass.” Doris folded her arms. The plastic of her raincoat crackled.

  Clancy put her mug of coffee down beside the empty cereal bowl. She wasn’t going to be able to talk her grandma out of this one, but Faust had run from Clancy’s blast of geomagic, and she’d had all night—in between thinking of Mark—to consider why. Her grandma was also a geomage, but a minor one, and two geomages were better than one. “Wait. I’ll go with you.”

  Doris smiled. “I’m leaving in five minutes.”

  It was the smile that convinced Clancy she’d been had. Doris wanted Clancy to go to church and she’d found a way to make that happen. Clean jeans and the long sleeve pale blue t-shirt she wore would be fine. Clancy combed her hair into a quick ponytail, added lip-gloss, and looped a silver necklace over her head. She quickly laced her boots, and was still shoving her arms into the sleeves of her vintage leather jacket as she descended the stairs.

  Doris gave her a head to toe look and nodded. “You should wear more color.” A silver crucifix hung outside her sweater. So Doris, too, had taken precautions against demonic attack.

  Clancy gently pushed her out the back door. Precautions or not…“Let’s just hope we don’t meet the demon, and that Mark doesn’t discover we’re gone.” She checked that the phone hadn’t fallen out of the pocket of her jacket. If there was trouble they might need to call someone.

  Trouble waited for them at church. Not real trouble, but Clancy hadn’t expected so many of Doris’s friends to remember her. Hugs and kisses, questions and comments came from all sides.

  “Boyfriend? Babies?”

  “No, and no,” she answered, hanging onto her smile. She was grateful to slide into the pew Doris always sat in and hear the chime of bells that meant the mass was about to start. The familiar service flowed over and around her. She stood and knelt with everyone else, and even sang along with the choir. Something in her relaxed. Whenever someone caught her eye, they smiled. She realized that Doris’s friends hadn’t been questioning her to make her feel inadequate. They were simply asking the usual kind of thing to show interest and, in their way, to make her feel welcome. It was her own insecurities that made her feel attacked.

  She smiled at her grandma, who beamed back.

  They had coffee afterwards with anyone else who could spare the time and wanted some company. The rain had cleared and people stood or sat in the courtyard beside the church. This time, Clancy was prepared and steered the conversation and questions to the topic of Doris’s friends’ health. Since they were elderly, there were significant health issues, and enough of them were willing to talk about their problems that Clancy only had to smile and nod. She drank dishwater-flavored instant coffee and, as she and Doris were walking back to Doris’s car, had the privilege to hear deaf Mr. Bentham proclaim, “Clancy was always a good girl.”

  And his friend, Mr. Illych’s response. “Nice ass, too.”

  Clancy laughed, Doris giggled, and the drive home was easy and relaxed.

  Until they met Mark just inside the front gate. Doris braked sharply, and Mark came around to Clancy’s passenger-side window. “Where have you been? I tried phoning you.”

  He hadn’t shaved and the sunlight glinted on his blond stubble, emphasizing the hard line of his jaw.

  Oops. “We were at church. I turned off the phone during the service, and then…I forgot to turn it back on.”

  His glare scorched her.

  “We’re fine, Mark.” She tried to reassure him.

  “Are you? Well, Rivera isn’t,” he snapped.

  Cold dread punched Clancy in the gut. She unclipped her seatbelt and clambered out of Doris’s car. “Has Faust…?” What had the demon done?

  “Gilda phoned me thirty minutes ago. She woke me. She wants me at Rivera’s yoga studio.” His jaw tightened, his final words coming from between gritted teeth. “I couldn’t find you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Clancy began.

  “My fault. I wanted to go to church,” Doris said. “I didn’t think the demon would attack us.”

  And it hadn’t. It had attacked Rivera.

  “I’ll go with you,” Clancy said to Mark. She met his furious, resistant gaze. “You’re not going alone.”

  He spun on his heel and strode to the garage.

  She gave Doris a shrug and a wave, and hurried after him, hearing her grandma’s car continue slowly on to the cottage. She scrambled into the warded SUV as Mark revved it. She was still buckling up as he reversed, turned sharply and roared toward the open gate. One glance at his severe expression and she had to know. “Did Gilda say anything else?”

  “She said I might be right and that Faust is taking a personal interest in me.”

  Clancy shuddered. No one wanted to be the focus of a demon’s attention. “And Rivera? What did Faust do to her?”

  He took his gaze briefly from the road to look at her. Fear and regret haunted his blue eyes. “Gilda wouldn’t say. She hung up.” He looked back at the road, hands strangling the steering wheel. “And then, I couldn’t find you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mark. Truly. Doris wanted t
o go to church, and I thought we’d be safe, and safely home, without you even knowing we were gone.” She twisted a finger in the silver chain necklace around her throat. “We both wore silver as a protective against evil and to use against the demon.”

  If that impressed him, it didn’t show.

  She watched the streets of Beverly Hills flash past too fast. “I was thinking about things last night.” She’d been obsessing on how she’d behave the next time she’d encounter Mark. Well, events had overtaken that worry! But she’d also considered other things. “Faust didn’t want to engage with me. When I broke open the circle of summoning, he fled. Nobody runs from me, so it had to be the nature of my magic.”

  He slowed the SUV to a legal speed.

  She was careful not to sigh an audible breath of relief. “It was there in your books of magic, in the principles that underlie how the alchemists believe magic is structured and bound. I’m a geomage. My magic is earth magic. We, humans, are all made of earth, and to earth we return.” It was an echo of the old religious words: ashes to ashes, dust to dust. “But demons are different. They’re not from this realm, and they’re not created from the Earth. I think demons are antipathetic to geomagic. Possibly it erodes some of their presence in this realm.”

  “Would Gilda know this?” Mark asked. He’d ceased strangling the steering wheel; interest crowding out anger.

  “I’m not sure.” Clancy recognized the street they were turning into. They were almost at Rivera’s yoga studio. “You’d think she would, except mages operate in silos at the Collegium. We receive a broad training in magic in the first few months, but then we all specialize. With demonologists responsible for all things demonic, and demons avoiding geomages, maybe no one has considered that geomagic is destructive in some way to demons. Before Faust, I’d never encountered one.”

  “Most people don’t,” he said absently as he parked, then switched off the engine.

  They sat a moment in the silence.