Witches Can't Fly (Otherworld Crime Unit Book 3)

by Nova Archer

  “Thank you...again for saving me.” She picked some debris from her hair.

  “I’m just the right guy at the right time.” He smiled wanting desperately to soothe the haunted look from her face. Never before in his life had he wanted to take someone’s pain away from them as he did now with Lyra. He’d take it all away if he could.

  He knew she’d suffered in the past, knew about the loss of her parents and her grandmother. Although she’d treated him with disdain and put up a cold front, he saw between the cracks in her armor. He witnessed her vulnerability and instinctively knew it frightened her to the core to be so open.

  He wanted—no, needed—to protect her, to save her if he had to. Nothng else mattered to him. Saving Lyra would save his own soul.

  She looked at him sideways while she continued to remove clumps of rock and glass from her hair. “Yes, it seems you are.” He saw her lips twitch before she looked down and brushed at her pants. She picked up a piece of burnt glass between her fingers and held it to the light. “Do you think it was the DNA lab that blew up?” Her voice caught in her throat. She struggled to keep her emotions in check.

  He hesitated, unsure of what to say. He could lie to her but knew she’d see right through it and hate him for it. “It would seem that way, yes.”

  She tossed the glass into a corner away from them. Tears formed in her eyes. She tried to hide it by turning her head, but Theron could clearly see the liquid shimmer.

  He reached for her hand and wrapped it in his. “I am sure Caine and the others are all right.”

  “They were heading to the lab, Theron. Gwen would’ve been inside already waiting for them.” She sniffed and wiped at her face to hide the tears which were threatening to roll down her cheeks.

  “This Gwen is a witch, non? Maybe she had a chance to contain herself behind a solid shield as I did.” He squeezed her hand trying to reassure her although he knew it was futile at best. Lyra was an intelligent woman. She knew if the explosion was forceful enough to bury them beneath tons of rubble; it was destructive enough to raze the lab or worse.

  Lyra shook her head. “Gwen’s a level one witch at best. Most of her power comes from her telekinetic ability.”

  “From what I’ve seen of your team, Lyra, they’re tough. They’ll be okay. The best thing we need to do is make sure we’re all right.”

  Theron took in their situation. They were quite literally buried under tons of concrete, metal pipes, and other debris from the lab and offices above them. Without the bubble he had created, they would likely be dead or injured with no way to dig themselves out. Judging by the amount of debris, it would take a crew a few hours of excavating to reach their position, even after the team figured out where they were.

  Lyra must’ve been considering the same things. “How much oxygen do you think we have?”

  “Enough.”

  She met his gaze, seeming to stare through him. “How much?”

  “Six to seven hours.” He rubbed a thumb over her hand trying to soothe the anxiety he could sense growing. “It’ll be enough, Lyra. They’ll find us. Caine knew we were in the garage.”

  She nodded, but didn’t look convinced. He wasn’t convinced either.

  Releasing her hand, he leaned over so he could see her other shoulder. “How is your arm?” He reached for her, but she tried to pull away. “Let me see it. I have some healing capabilities.”

  She turned so he could access her shoulder easily. Carefully, he wrapped his hands around her arm, just under the socket. With his thumbs, he started to feel her muscles working his way up to her shoulder. She winced and tried to pull back a couple of times. But he held her in place, trying to gauge the extent of her injury.

  “Your bones are not broken, but there is a lot of trauma and bruising.”

  “Too bad we don’t have an herb garden nearby. I could whip up a healing agent to die for,” she said with a cocky grin.

  Theron had to suppress the urge to kiss her. She possessed a mouth made for hot kisses that lasted for days.

  Unbuttoning his shirt, Theron pulled out a silver chain he always wore around his neck. On the chain was a small silver cylinder. He unscrewed the top and dripped some liquid onto his fingertips.

  “What is that?” Lyra asked, wrinkling her nose.

  “A helichrysum and lavender mixture I always carry with me.” He rubbed the oil onto his fingertips. She watched him with a questioning look. “I have stiffness in my hands. I use it for that.”

  “Arthritis?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I can rub it on your shoulder, it will take care of any pain you are having.”

  Shaking her head, but with a small smile on her lips, she rolled up her short sleeve to her shoulder. “Were you a Boy Scout or something? Always prepared.”

  Theron placed his hands on her upper arm and began to massage the oil into her skin. “No, never a Boy Scout. Too many boys. I wanted to be around the girls.”

  She laughed. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  He liked the sound of her laugh. It had a musical quality to it, like lively Celtic music.

  They settled into a comfortable silence as he worked on her arm. Her skin warmed under his touch as he moved to her shoulder. He liked the feel of her in his hands. Her skin was soft like satin and looked like cream. He wondered how she would taste on his tongue.

  He cursed at himself for thinking of her like that when she was hurt and they were both in a serious situation. But he couldn’t rein in the incessant carnal thoughts he had about her. He’d been having them from the moment he set eyes on her across the crowded seminar hall.

  She’d been so chaste, untouchable before. When she had rejected him, telling him she couldn’t be with him, he knew she had been right. It had not been the right time. But something had changed in the last five years. She’d changed. A sensuality he’d never felt before hummed at the surface of Lyra’s skin. It was part of her, part of her energy. Even now he could feel it rippling over him, taunting his senses.

  The petite sociere had marked him with her magic.

  After he had thoroughly massaged the oil into her skin, he sat back on his haunches and regarded her. Her face had lost the dark look. The look of someone in pain. “How does that feel?”

  She shrugged the shoulder. “Much better.” Her lips lifted into a smile. “You’re quite handy to have around, I must say.”

  He sat down facing her and rubbed the residual oil into his hands and wrists. “Handy. Hmm, can’t say I’ve ever been described quite that way.”

  “No, I imagine words like handsome, charming and sexy are more appropriate for you.”

  “You think I’m sexy?”

  She blushed. Mon Dieu, he adored it when she did that.

  “No.” She rubbed a hand over her mouth. “But I imagine lots of women think that about you.”

  “I don’t care what other women think. I want to know what you think.”

  “Why do you care what I think?” She frowned. “I’m just the stubborn woman who stole your beloved book.”

  “You are stubborn, I’ll give you that.” He reached for her hand. “But for all the faults you think you have, you’ve managed to pique my interest regardless.”

  She smirked. “I’ve piqued your interest? Well, lucky me.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Put this wall of hostility up every time I try to pay you a compliment or to tell you how I feel about you.”

  She pulled her hand from his. “I’m not hostile.”

  “You push back every time I try to get close.”

  “Maybe I don’t want you closer. Ever thought of that? Maybe you’re not as completely irresistible as you think you are.”

  He leaned back on his hands and regarded her. “Then I’d say you are a liar.”

  She gaped at him. “You are so annoyingly arrogant.”

  “I know you are attracted to me, Lyra. You try to hide it in your face but I can see
it in your eyes. I can feel it on your body. Your reactions to me don’t lie. You want me as much as I want you.”

  Her hands clenched into tight fists and he knew if she could stand right now, she’d probably punch him in the mouth and then storm away. But she couldn’t, not in the concrete prison they were trapped in. He had the advantage this time. She couldn’t run from him. They would deal with this passion simmering between them once and for all.

  Because if they didn’t, Theron knew he’d go mad with want and desire. However odd it was to her and to him, he craved Lyra like no other woman before her.

  “I could punch you right now, dhampir. You make me so angry.”

  “Do I?” He arched a brow. “I wonder why that is?”

  “I don’t know. You just do.”

  “I think it’s because I’m honest with my thoughts. While you hide yours.”

  “It’s probably best you don’t know my thoughts right about now,” she grumbled.

  “Hmm, don’t tease me.” He leaned forward and stared at her mouth. He made it known his intentions were not honorable. That he wanted, no needed, to take her right here and now.

  She gaped at him again, her cheeks going even redder. “I can’t believe you’re thinking with your...your groin at a time like this.”

  “It isn’t as if we going anywhere soon.” He gestured to the cave of cement and debris entombing them.

  “I’m not going to have this conversation with you.”

  “Why not? Do you have something better to do?”

  Her eyes flashed like wildfire. “I could permanently glue your lips together with a binding spell.”

  He licked his lips. “Now what fun would that be? You couldn’t kiss me then.”

  She stared at him, wide eyed, lips parted.

  “Because I desperately want to kiss you. I’ve wanted to the moment I saw you again.”

  He could hear her heart racing just over the sound of his own. The smell of her sweat mingled with his. All he wanted to do was find solace in her. Find the peace he’d been searching for in the soft moist warmth of her body.

  “You’re insane, you know that.”

  “I know, but I can’t possibly think of a better way to celebrate that we’re alive and together.”

  Blushing, she didn’t look away and he could see his desire mirrored in her eyes.

  Gripping her arm, he pulled her to him, hoping she’d see how much he ached for her. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll let you go. Tell me you don’t wish for the feel of my body against yours. Tell me that and I will relent.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t tell you those things.” She opened her eyes again and he saw the longing there, yet also something else. Fear. “I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Just give into your desire, Lyra.”

  “I don’t know how.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I can’t give you what you want.”

  Theron pressed his lips to the side of her mouth, lingering there, taking in her scent, and murmured against her skin. “You are what I want. Just let go.”

  Sighing, Lyra turned her head and found his mouth. Triumphant and alive, his heart swelled to bursting. Stroking his fingertips over her cheek, he deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue over her parted lips.

  She tasted as he knew she would. Like the herbs and spice which clung to her skin. Earthy, like a pagan princess. He could picture her naked, flowers in her silky hair, dancing the summer solstice in the moonlight.

  He circled her neck with his other hand, lightly tracing his fingers along the slim line to the pulse thumping there. The vampire in him ached to press his tongue along the pounding vein. He’d never indulged in the suppressed urge. There hadn’t been a woman before Lyra who pushed him to the edge of his desire. Once there, he would quest more from her. He would hunger for more than her kisses. He would crave her completely.

  Content for now to just feel her blood race through her vein, Theron nibbled on her bottom lip. She returned his advances in kind, nipping and playing with her tongue and teeth.

  As he moved his hands down to her shoulders and back, he could feel her vibrate under his touch. Energy sizzled on the surface of her skin. It brushed against him like a living breathing entity. He’d had sex with a witch before but Theron had never experienced a sensation like this.

  Even as he felt the passion between them mount, he knew something held Lyra back. Something was battling inside her, something keeping her from surrendering to him, to their heightening desire.

  To the magic that sparked all around them.

  Lyra pulled away, gasping for breath. “I can’t do this.”

  Theron ran his hands up and down her arms. Shivers radiated over her clammy skin. “Why? Have I done something wrong?”

  “It’s not you. You’re, unfortunately, very appealing.”

  He smiled at her statement and her reluctance to find him attractive. That was just one of many things he found so alluring about her.

  She took in a deep breath. “I’m a virgin.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The moment she blurted it out, Lyra wanted to crack the invisible bubble above her head and let the concrete slabs pummel her into putty.

  She was mortified. He’d probably laugh at her for being a virgin at thirty when he’d likely lost that stigma at fourteen.

  He leaned back but kept her hand in his, searching her face. He didn’t laugh or smile, as she thought he would. He just watched her intently.

  She’d been keeping that part of her life a secret, never having told anyone before. It wasn’t that she was ashamed, not really. But felt it was too private to share with just anybody. She didn’t have any close girlfriends. And the last boyfriend she’d had was a computer wizard who was more interested in creating virtual reality spells than in her. Certainly he had wanted her in bed, but after the two times she’d declined him, he’d quit asking. This had been fine with her for the three months their relationship had lasted, because he hadn’t been a man she’d wanted to make an effort for. That had been over two years ago. Since then, she’d never met a man who she’d make an effort for.

  Until now.

  There was something about Theron that made her yearn for more than what she had in her life.

  She shrugged. “I bet you didn’t expect that little diddy.”

  “I didn’t, but now I understand why you keep everyone at a distance.”

  “Is that right, Dr. LeNoir? You’re a psychoanalyst now?”

  “You are afraid of intimacy. Afraid of letting anyone see the real Lyra. You use the sharp tongue of yours to deflate anyone trying to get near.”

  She didn’t like that he was analyzing her. She felt open and vulnerable. The last thing she needed was Theron poking around in her head and her heart. Already feeling flayed and stripped down, Lyra saw her anger bubbling to the surface and her defenses rising. She wasn’t ready to let him in. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Look who’s talking about intimacy. I bet you haven’t dated one woman more than twice.”

  She saw the flash of uncertainty cross his face before he dropped his gaze. “What can I say? I like variety.”

  She shook her head. “You keep everyone at the surface. Afraid if they looked too closely they wouldn’t like what they saw.”

  He smiled, but she could see her barb had hit the mark. His true emotions spoke volumes in the stormy centers of his eyes. “Touché. But once again you’ve managed to turn the conversation away from you onto me.”

  “Do you have to be so civil all the time?” She huffed. “Why can’t we just fight like normal people?”

  He lifted one perfect brow as if his point was so obvious she was an idiot to not have figured it out. “Because Lyra I don’t want to fight with you, I want to make love to you.”

  Wide eyed, Lyra gaped at him. His remark had caught her completely off-guard. But she couldn’t deny the heat spreading across her body with his bold statement.

&nbs
p; “Is sex all you think about?”

  “No, I think about other things, but not when I’m near you.”

  She eyed him, looking for a smirk, looking for the sign he was joking. Because for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why this man, this beautiful, elegant yet infuriating man, would be interested in her. She was plain and uninteresting compared to him. A weed to his flower. He could have any woman in the world he wanted. Why chose a prickly plain witch from Necropolis?

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. You’re not the type of woman I usually go for.”

  “You mean pretty, voluptuous, and empty headed?”

  He chuckled. “Any woman can be pretty. A nice hair cut, makeup, fancy undergarments that nip and tuck. But you, it isn’t at the surface. It comes from somewhere deeper.”

  She didn’t want his compliments to matter, but they did. She’d never met a man before who gave them to her so freely. Infamous for seducing women, he was fluent in compliments but for now Lyra wanted to believe he meant every single one of them.

  She’d gone so long using her virginity as a shield, to keep men from getting close to her. This man in particular. But now she wanted Theron to be her first. She craved it so much her heart throbbed at the thought. But fear kept her still. Fear she wouldn’t be enough for him.

  “From the moment I met you something flared between us.”

  “It’s just magic recognition,” she said, trying to hide the breathy catch in her voice.

  “Have you experienced this with any other witch?”

  She wanted to say yes, to tell him she’d experienced it so many times it had become second nature, but she couldn’t lie. Not now, not to him.

  “No.”

  “Whatever it is I want to explore the sensation, revel in it, completely submerse myself in it.” He shuffled closer to her, pressing his knees against hers. “I know you want to explore it too, Lyra. I can see it in your eyes. What have you got to lose?”

  You. She wanted to cry out. Everyone she’d ever been close to had left her in one form or another. It wasn’t always of their accord, but it didn’t matter in the end. She still remained alone.