Bewitching the Beast

by Tamara Hughes

  “Which is a problem because . . .”

  His gaze locked onto hers, and the air sizzled between them. “I want to protect you.”

  Her stomach flipped, and she looked away. “From what?”

  “From your fate.”

  “Hmm.” She closed her eyes. “My fate,” she murmured, her voice flat.

  “Yes.”

  She opened one eye and studied him. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night in the storeroom, when we . . .” Ethan stood and dropped his hands to his sides. “When I . . .” He chewed his lip and walked to the end of the bed.

  Heat crept up her neck as visions of Ethan hovering over her, pounding into her, popped into her head. Oh, Lord.

  Ethan paced back to the door. “I drained all of your spiritual energy.”

  “My what?”

  “It’s energy around you that keeps you safe and content.”

  “Content?” She stifled a moan, her head in too much pain to even try to decipher what he was talking about. “Don’t worry. I don’t think I had much of that energy to begin with.”

  “This isn’t a joke.” Rubbing his neck, he returned to the bed. “When we were together last night, at the moment you climaxed, I absorbed your energy.”

  She gave him a blank stare. Honestly, what could she say?

  “It’s not the first time I’ve done this. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Well, it was a first time for me.” Tess eased the ice pack onto the bed and flipped the heavy covers off. Yikes, too much skin. She gasped and pulled the bedding up to her neck. For God’s sake, she only wore her robe, and the belt had come untied. Nothing like flashing a complete stranger. She glanced at Ethan.

  He met her gaze, and his eyes burned into hers. Clearing his throat, he returned to the door. “I didn’t mean I’ve had sex at a club before. This isn’t the first time I’ve taken someone’s aura.”

  Tess adjusted her robe beneath the blankets and tied the belt. “What exactly is an aura?”

  “All living things have an energy field that surrounds them and protects them. Yours is gone.”

  “Which means?”

  “To make up for the loss, that void will draw in all the energy it can, both positive and negative, anything the world has to offer. And usually the bad stuff gets there first.”

  She tried to wrap her mind around that one. Nope. Not possible.

  “Your body will create some of its own positive energy. In the meantime, I’ve tried cleansing away any of the negative energy you’ve already picked up, but I’m not trained, so I’m not sure it did any good.” He stepped forward, a little too close, his hands held out. “I can try again if you’d like.”

  “No.” She sat up, her head screaming from the sudden move. “I’m sure whatever you did earlier worked just fine.”

  He kept coming. “It should probably be repeated anyway. Until your aura is stabilized, you’ll just keep collecting negative energy.”

  Leaning back, she held up both hands. “Uh, I think it can wait. I’m good.” No way in hell was she going to sit back and let him “cleanse” her. In fact, leaving now seemed like the best plan. “What time is it?”

  Ethan checked the clock on his nightstand. “Seven.”

  The Idiot’s Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft rested beside the clock. Which explained a lot. He either thought he was a witch or was a witch-wannabe. Either way, he had a screw loose. Throwing the covers off again, she scooted to the edge of the bed, holding the robe in place. “Wow, it’s late. Well, as much as I appreciate your concern and your help, I should get going. You didn’t happen to bring any of my clothes, did you?”

  “I can’t let you leave, Tess.”

  “Goofball says what?”

  “What?” He stepped toward her. “You’re not making sense. Stay in bed.”

  The hairs on the nape of her neck rose. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

  “You don’t understand. At least let me explain.”

  “By all means.” Tess studied the small bedroom. A window covered by blinds was on her left. Hmm. How many floors up were they?

  “As far as energy goes, like attracts like. The more negative energy you accumulate, the more you’ll draw in, making you susceptible.”

  “To what?”

  “Anything. Injuries, accidents, diseases. Negative energy invites bad luck of all kinds.”

  Great. Talk about luck. This guy was nuts. Her gaze darted to the door behind Ethan. If she could get him to move across the room . . .

  He reached out and grasped her chin, turning her face so she focused on him. “Did you feel different after we’d been together?”

  She jerked her face out of his hand. “Yeah, and I don’t think my embarrassment and shame had anything to do with lost energy.”

  Ethan frowned, and sympathy shadowed his eyes.

  Sympathy. Pity. She’d had enough of those sentiments these last months. Frankly, she was tired of it. Tess rose to her feet, craning her neck to look him in the eyes. “You know, I’m feeling much better now. Thank you for watching over me.”

  Opening his arms, he spoke softly. “I want to help you. Let me help you.”

  She edged around him. “I don’t need your help.”

  Ethan didn’t touch her, but he shifted his body to block the door. “Tess, listen to me. You’re not safe. Not until your body regenerates your positive energy.”

  “All right.” Tess nodded and pointed to the door. “I’m going to go regenerate right now. I promise.” She leaned to the right. When he made a move to stop her, she dodged around him on the left. Stifling a whimper, she lifted her hand to her head and ran out the door into a large living area.

  Within five feet, he caught her, grasping her in an unbreakable hug from behind. She kicked and wriggled in his arms. “Let me go.”

  He carried her to his bed and lowered her feet to the floor, holding her tight, her back against his chest. “Tess, stop.”

  She jerked one more time, then slumped in his arms, gasping deep breaths. Her heart pounded hard, each beat throbbing inside her aching head.

  “I’m not crazy.” Ethan’s soft voice whispered in her ear, and she shivered, her body tingling all over.

  She closed her eyes and tried to shake the reaction, but the feel of his hard chest behind her, and his strong arms wrapped around her . . .

  “This is real,” he said, his words slipping over her skin like a caress. “You’re in danger. If you don’t listen to me, you could die.”

  Tess’s eyes popped open, all those fluttery sensations quelled by the mention of death. This guy was a total fruitcake.

  When his hold around her relaxed, she spun around and attacked, punching and scratching.

  He pushed her onto the mattress with a growl and pinned her arms over her head. His hips landed between her thighs. She sucked in a breath and stopped thrashing as his blue eyes studied every detail of her face, her hair, her lips. Their gazes locked, and she thought for a moment he might kiss her. Her stomach swirled crazily, but she held on to her senses. “Are you planning to drain my aura again?” she scoffed, this time ready to fight him every step of the way.

  Alarm flashed across his features. He jerked away and rushed to the mirror on the wall. She took advantage of her unexpected freedom and dashed into the living room. Spying her coat and boots, she snatched them up and yanked open the door.

  She raced toward an exit sign down the hall and burst into the stairwell. Down one flight, then two. The creak of hinges, followed by the clip of footsteps, drove her faster. Her toe caught on the edge of a step, and she lurched forward. Giving a yelp, she gripped the railing and barely stopped herself from falling down the rest of the flight.

  “Tess! Are you
okay?” Ethan called out from somewhere above her.

  “Just let me go!” She bolted forward, one hand on the rail, the other still clutching her boots, her coat over her arm.

  “Tess, wait!”

  Both her aching toe and her throbbing head vied for attention, but she forced her legs to move. Her lungs ready to collapse, she reached the bottom of the steps and flung open the door. She ran through the empty lobby toward the building’s exit. Through the door’s glass, streaks of dawn blanketed Central Park with sunlight.

  She dashed outside, her bare feet touching the ice-cold cement. Oooooeeeeee! The freezing wind played with the hem of her robe as she jammed her feet into her boots and sprinted to the curb. Across the street, a line of cabs waited in front of the Pierre Hotel.

  “Taxi!” She thrust her hand in the air and raced toward the crosswalk, her eyes on the well-dressed doorman who waved her over and opened a passenger door. Glancing to make sure the way was clear, she hurried into the street. Her head turned to the screech of tires, in time to see a yellow cab coming at her. She jumped, her hands slamming down on the car’s hood. Where had this guy come from?

  “What are you, nuts? Watch it,” the cab driver yelled out the window.

  “Tess!” Ethan ran toward her.

  Tess rounded the cab and climbed in as he rushed up to the door. “Hit the lock,” she yelled at the driver, who was fast to react. Thank goodness. “Go. Go!” she urged the cabbie, and the taxi sped forward.

  She stared out the rear window as Ethan bent over to catch his breath, the look in his eyes promising this wasn’t over.

  Chapter 3

  The cab driver followed Tess up to her apartment, ranting all the way. She didn’t understand a word of his high-pitched tirade. Of course, he was speaking so fast, only a cartoon chipmunk would understand him. She clutched her robe tighter and clomped her boot-covered feet to the door. Why he’d expected someone wearing a bathrobe to be carrying wads of money was beyond her. Then again, this was New York.

  She pushed on the door, the herbal wreath smashed and off-kilter. It gave only an inch. Leaning her weight into the door, she forced it open. The chain swung loose. Wood from the doorframe littered the carpet, courtesy of her slightly twisted knight in shining armor.

  “Wait here.” Tess rushed inside and tossed her coat to the floor. “Purse. Purse.” Where had she left the damn thing? She raced around, searching everywhere when it dawned on her. She’d left it at the club. Shit. She’d have to use her emergency cash. She hustled to her bedroom and straight to her sock drawer, where she counted out the necessary cash and headed back to the apartment door. “Here you go. Keep the change.”

  The cabbie snatched the money and stomped down the hall, a barrage of curse words trailing behind him. Crabby cabbie.

  She shoved the door shut, giving a hip bump to finish the job. Her gaze swept the kitchen and the puddle on the linoleum. The saucepan rested on its side next to the spill. Right. She’d been making tea. She remembered now. “Screw it.” She’d clean it up later. She’d have to get her purse later too, assuming it was still at the club. If it wasn’t . . . Damn. She didn’t want to think about that right now.

  The answering machine’s red light flashed. She pressed the message button and sank onto her worn, comfy couch, resting her aching head back, then wincing when the tender spot touched the fabric.

  “You have three messages,” the machine’s robotic male voice told her.

  “What have you got for me, Sammy?” For the last nine months, Sammy had been the sole male voice in her apartment. Kind of sad. And he wouldn’t be here either if it weren’t for her folks insisting she needed a landline in case of emergency, even going so far as to foisting their old cordless on her when she’d balked at buying a phone.

  “12:03 a.m., January 1st,” Sammy said in his stilted robotic tone.

  “Hi, Tess. This is your mother.” Speak of the devil. Her mother sounded strained, worried. Not unusual for her. “I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure you’re okay.”

  Ah, more pity. Poor Tess, alone on New Year’s Eve.

  “I was thinking about coming for a visit. Call me.”

  “Not now, Mom.” The last thing she needed was her mom hovering over her asking her every five minutes if she was okay. Not to mention explaining Ethan if he came around again. And something told her he would.

  Beep. “12:39 a.m., January 1st,” Sammy announced.

  “Hey, Tess, it’s Holly. I have your purse. Let me know if you want me to drop it off.” Pounding music almost obscured her words.

  Her purse. Thank God. At least it was safe with Holly.

  “I hope you’re feeling better. Say, I wanted to ask you about the guy who came looking for you here at the club. He asked where you’d gone. Since you left sick, I stalled him. I hope it wasn’t a mistake. You would have given him your number if you were interested, right? I hope you did. He’s hot.”

  “Too bad he’s sick in da head.” Tess lifted a hand to her sore scalp. Ouch. A huge goose egg bulged from her skull.

  Beep. “7:46 a.m., January 1st.”

  “Holly again. How are you doing? Thought you’d call me when you got up this morning. I’m heading to work now. I better see you there, unless of course you’re still not feeling well. Hey, I’m getting a little worried. You did make it home, right? Call me.”

  Tess sat up straight. “Work! Crap. Can this day get any worse?”

  “No more messages.”

  She scooted to the edge of the couch cushion and turned to the wall clock. Almost eight. Wonderful. If she hadn’t promised to have the new brochure on Mr. Ellison’s desk by tomorrow morning, she’d call in sick. Grrr. While the sane people of the world took off holidays, the crazies at the Ellison Gallery had to work. Couldn’t disappoint all those customers whose New Year’s resolutions involved buying art.

  Forcing herself up, she hurried to her bedroom. She barely looked at the clothes hanging in her closet as she pulled out a black pencil skirt and a white silk blouse. Compared to Holly’s stuffed walk-in closet, her meager wardrobe was a disgrace to womankind. Jeans, jeans, and more jeans, a few stylish tops, and work clothes.

  She froze when she heard a knock on the front door. Go away, Ethan. Sliding her skirt over her hips, she raced to the kitchen and slopped through the water on the floor. She stopped at the empty cordless phone base. Dang. Where had she left that thing? Didn’t matter. No doubt the battery would be dead by now. So much for calling 911 if she needed to.

  The knocking stopped. She stared up at the ceiling and debated what to do. Ethan didn’t seem like a dangerous criminal. When she’d accused him of trying to drain her energy again, the look on his face had been shock. No, horror. Hardly the reaction of a homicidal psychopath.

  Tess returned to the bedroom. Maybe she was the crazy one. Making as little noise as possible, she finished dressing, dragging out her usual five-minute comb-through to fifteen, giving Ethan ample time to leave. Then she mopped up the spill in the kitchen with a towel for good measure. After slipping on her shoes and coat, she exhumed her pepper spray from the nether regions of her apartment, a present from her parents. She dropped the ancient spray into her pocket, just in case.

  A peek out the peephole confirmed what she already knew. Ethan stood outside the door. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, he wore the leather coat and jeans he’d had on last night. And one glove.

  She’d never appreciated a man with longer hair, before now. Ethan’s dark mane suited him. His masculine features negated the potential feminine quality. Her gaze wandered over his lean jaw, peppered with fine stubble, his smooth lips, and those incredible eyes.

  He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides. The lithe movement brought her attention to his lean build—not exactly muscular, but tall and strong.
When he approached the door and peered into the peephole, her breath caught. She half expected him to say something, even knowing he couldn’t see her.

  Lowering his eyes, he frowned and reached out to fiddle with something on her door.

  The wreath. “It’s a hopeless case,” she muttered.

  He messed with the thing for several minutes until his shoulders dropped and his lip curled in frustration. When he withdrew his hand, his fingers held a crumpled sprig of rosemary. Lifting the herb, he took a quick sniff and wrinkled his nose.

  Tess smiled and shook her head. She yanked open the door, and he stashed the rosemary in his pocket.

  “How did you know I was home?” she asked, jerking the door closed behind her.

  “Just a hunch.”

  “Right.” She passed by him and pressed the elevator button.

  He followed on her heels.

  The doors opened. Tess stepped inside and held up a hand. “As you can see, I’m perfectly safe. You can go.”

  He took hold of her hand, his palm warm on hers, the gesture unexpected, and sexy. Liquid heat spread through her like melted honey.

  “Let’s use the stairs.” With a gentle tug, he pulled her from the elevator.

  As soon as she stepped outside and the doors closed, she cursed herself and snatched her hand free. What was wrong with her? You’d think she was starved for a man. She stomped to the stairs, this time in her sensible one-inch heels.

  Ethan trailed behind.

  Of course.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To the stairs.”

  He strode past her and held open the door. “After the stairs?”

  “Work, and I’m going alone.” She passed through the door into the musty stairwell and quickened her pace, the soles of her shoes clipping against the cement steps.

  His boots tapped behind her. “I can’t let you do that.”