Black's Magic

by Cynthia Rayne

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  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.sirenpub.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Cynthia Rayne

  First published in 2007, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Black's Magic

  Sorcerer Rowena Black tracks down dangerous warlocks and extinguishes their powers. She is determined to capture her father's murderer, warlock Damien Rochester, the leader of the Coven reputed to practice magical and sexual perversions.

  Vayne Thorne, a member of the Coven, is beginning to lose his taste for violence. While in a magical duel with Rowena, she scars his handsome face. Fascinated by her, Vayne intends to make her his slave.

  In a desperate attempt to infiltrate the Coven, Rowena allows herself to be captured. Damien Rochester gives her to both Vayne and his rival Galen Sinclair, the Coven's apothecary, as their sexual servant.

  Caught between the two warlocks as their obsession with her grows, Rowena experiences pleasures she never knew existed. As she falls in love with one man, Rowena fights against temptation as she tries to complete her mission—to bring down the Coven once and for all.

  BLACK'S MAGIC

  Cynthia Rayne

  EROTIC ROMANCE

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  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Erotic Romance

  BLACK'S MAGIC

  Copyright © 2007 by Cynthia Rayne

  ISBN-10: 1-933563-71-0

  First Electronic Publication: June 2007

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER:

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  BLACK'S MAGIC

  CYNTHIA RAYNE

  Copyright © 2007

  Chapter 1

  London, England

  Present

  "Stop grinding against me,” Rowena Black growled.

  Most of the time when she straddled a man, it had a pleasurable purpose, but she had a leg on either side of Cedric Edwards for work. She drew her wand from the holster at her hip and waved it in his face. That stopped his gyrations.

  She tried to keep her focus on the young warlock, but the stench of garbage and urine assailed her nostrils. She hated to fight in darkened alleyways, but exposure to mortals had to be kept to a minimum. Rowena coughed into the back of her gloved hand before gripping his throat once more.

  "Get off me, bitch!"

  She squeezed his throat tighter. Cedric had hardly been a threat, but she always neutralized warlocks when she came upon them, even the neophyte ones. “Not bloody likely. What brings you out on the night of a full moon? Dark ritual? Maybe a moonlight serenade?"

  "I'm not telling you anything, but if you'd like to shag, I'd be happy to oblige,” he said hoarsely.

  Rowena smirked as she loosened her grip on his throat. “By the feel of things, you could scarcely do me justice. If you're not going to talk to me, I'll take your powers and be on my way, and you'll be a magical eunuch."

  "No! Don't! Please don't take my magic. I'll tell you everything I know."

  "Which is what?"

  "I'm here with Thorne. We were practicing hexes."

  Thorne. Rowena was well acquainted with him. “So, he's your master warlock?” Young warlocks were often apprenticed to older ones in order to learn their wicked craft. Rowena had all that she needed from the boy. “Thanks. I'll just neutralize you and I'll be on my way."

  "Wait! I know a lot of about Rochester, too."

  "You're a loyal one, aren't you?” Rowena shrugged. No honor among thieves, she supposed. “What do you know? How to kiss his ass? No thanks. I know more about the inner workings of the Coven than you."

  "I can tell you—"

  "Nothing."

  "But you said that you wouldn't—"

  "No, you assumed that I wouldn't take your powers."

  Rowena summoned the magic within and she could feel it rise to her call, as ancient and sure as an ocean tide. She imagined it gathering in her chest, a glowing ball of glistening energy. When it had fully formed, she forced it up her arm and out of the tip of her wand. Her power slammed into the warlock beneath her and yoked his magic.

  "Seize!” she whispered and the spell obeyed, pulling the magic from his body in one long, swirling arc.

  Cedric shut his eyes, drained by the loss of energy as the cloud of magic spilled from his throat.

  Rowena didn't pay attention to the boy. She stared at the magical, whirling vortex in front of her, a burning black cloud of fury that smelled faintly of sulfur. She watched it spin between them with heated eyes. It called to her on some level, wanting to be consumed instead of released.

  As a sorcerer, she tracked down and neutralized warlocks, but in order to do the job, she had to practice magic that fell somewhere in between black and white. The more black magic she practiced, the more she craved.

  She almost sympathized with warlocks, because the dark arts were extremely powerful and quite addictive. Almost. It was no wonder why the majority of them were controlled by their own desires. With resignation, she flung the cloud away from her and it dissipated into the wind, joining all of the stray magic that roamed the world.

  "Well, if it isn't Rowena Black."

  Rowena would know that voice anywhere. Vayne Thorne, one of the Coven's inner sanctum. He was sex on a stick, well, sex on a broomstick to be metaphorical—pity that he exuded pure evil, from the chill of his brilliant blue eyes to the supple leather that covered his sinewy legs.

  She looked up to see him standing between two crumbling gargoyles, illuminated by the full harvest moon. Vayne dropped down from his perch on top of the apartment building and hurtled to the ground, his long blond hair spilling from the queue at the nape of his neck and fanning around his face like a silver cloud. He stopped only two feet from the pavement, hovering for a moment before lightly touching down in front of her.

  "Show off,” she muttered.

  Vayne flashed a smile. “I've always loved a good entrance."

  Rowena turned to face him, wand still in hand. Poor Cedric was out of commission. “What brings you here? Slumming?"

  "No, actually Cedric is, well was, my new apprentice,” Vayne said, regarding the other warlock with an annoyed expression. He leaned over the young man and slapped his cheek, but the boy's head merely rolled to the side. Cedric was out cold.

  "And what did you do with his magic?"

  "Gone, I'm afraid, tossed to the wind."

  "Pity.” Vay
ne rolled the boy onto his back with the toe of his black leather boot. Then, he sprinkled a bit of blue fairy dust all over Cedric, liberally coating him as though he were spicing a steak. One Latin incantation later, and the boy disappeared, taken to Coven headquarters presumably.

  "Yes, it is a pity. I guess you'll have to find someone else to corrupt."

  With the boy gone, Vayne turned his attention to her. They circled each other as they spoke, two wary predators sizing up an opponent.

  "Like you?” He raised one silvery brow. His face was angular and his jaw was prominent. In short, he was lickable. Seemed a shame he was evil.

  Rowena knew she could scratch a sexual itch with Vayne, but she'd never slept with the enemy and wasn't about to now. “Are you trying to hit on me?"

  "Yes, and I'm succeeding."

  Rowena forced a yawn. “I'm bored. Can we fight?"

  "I didn't know you had a death wish, Rowena."

  "That's an idle threat and we both know it.” They were old adversaries, but well matched in magical abilities. A stalemate had always been the end result.

  "Probably, but let's mix it up a bit. Let's try a bit of hand-to-hand. I want to cop a feel while I thrash you.” He raked his eyes over her. “You're built the way I like my women. Big breasts and rounded hips. Throw in that jet black hair of yours and I'm ready to mount you right here."

  "You wish.” Rowena shrugged off her leather duster and tossed it across the top of the rickety fence behind her before pulling the athame from her boot.

  The blade glinted in the moonlight, the Celtic cross blazing on the handle. It felt good in her hand, as though the athame had been fashioned only for her, yet it had been handed down across the generations in her family. She knew that one day soon she'd use the blade to kill Rochester.

  Vayne came at her unarmed and she tried to push the blade into his belly, but he grasped her arm and brought it down across his knee, forcing her to drop it. The athame clattered to the ground and when she reached for it, he pulled her arm behind her back.

  Vayne pressed his mouth against her ear, his voice husky. “I'm going to shag you right here, Rowena. Tell me you want that."

  The words had the desired effect on her body. She wished he'd get over the whole bad boy thing and join her side. She'd consider making it worth his while, shag him senseless until she grew bored with him and she always grew bored with them eventually. She didn't dare give voice to her desires because she needed to keep her wits about her. “Not in this lifetime, Thorne."

  Vayne approached her, invading her space. “Are you sure about that?"

  He smelled of sage and other herbs that she couldn't recognize. He'd been spell-casting tonight, something wicked. That brought her back to her senses.

  "Positive. We're fighting, Vayne, not screwing.” She used the heel of her other hand to hit the underside of his nose. She heard the bone crunch as her hand made contact, causing blood to pour freely down his handsome face.

  Vayne released her with a muttered curse. He wiped at the blood with the back of his gloved had. “Do you maim all of your lovers?"

  "Only the ones I'm trying to kill.” She kicked him in the shin, before sweeping her leg across his chest.

  Turned on and pissed off at the same time, Rowena gasped for breath. The whole fight was undignified. They should have been using their wands like civilized people, instead of hitting each other like two children in a schoolyard fight.

  When he bent over, caught between nursing his injured nose and shin, she planted her foot square in the middle of his chest. Vayne fell to the ground, landing on his back with a thud.

  "Bloody hell! I've had enough of this!” He swept a leg under hers, and she landed on top of his prone body. He quickly situated her hips over his.

  Merlin help me! This was the second warlock of the night that had been between her legs and not in a fun way! She tried to get up, but he held onto her hips. “Let's call it an impasse and move on, Thorne."

  "Hardly.” Vayne bucked his hips. “I've got you where I want you. Well, almost where I want you. Be a dear and take off those jeans."

  "Why? You're in no shape to perform.” She tried to get up again, but he held her in a viselike grip with his hard arousal nestled between her thighs. She couldn't help but rock against him, making them both moan.

  He rolled them over so he was on top and pinned her between his cock and the sticky cement. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that the athame was in reach, just beside their prone bodies.

  "You know, when I pictured bonking you, it wasn't in a filthy alley but I'll take you anyway way I can get you."

  "Funny. I haven't thought about it all,” she lied. Rowena grasped the blade, while he ogled her breasts, which were perilously close to popping free of her ripped t-shirt.

  The poor bastard failed to pay attention to her movements. “I'm going to make you beg for me."

  She should have stuck the athame between his ribs, but she didn't. Couldn't. It was a blessed blade, so it would have been fatal, and somehow she couldn't bear the thought of killing him. Not like that. He deserved a good death. Rochester, on the other hand, she would stab in the street. He deserved to rot in an alleyway.

  Instead of killing Vayne, she scratched the athame across his face, where it would leave a jagged scar on his left cheek, a reminder of his close call. Because the athame had been consecrated for magical use, it would leave a permanent scar.

  Vayne let go of her then, clutching his face in agony as she scrambled away from him. “Bitch! What did you do to me?!"

  "Thought I'd give you something to remember me by.” With a wave of her wand, she escaped into the night, teleporting home.

  Rowena wasn't sure why she marked him, exactly. Perhaps on some level, because she couldn't have him as a lover, she wanted to lay claim to him.. He was the enemy and, therefore, off limits.

  She should have remembered that.

  * * * *

  Luna Café, London

  Two Weeks Later

  "You need to be more cautious, Rowena. As do I, what if I have been followed here?"

  "You worry too much, Merrick. Learn to live a little. Carpe diem and all of that,” she replied, before she took a bite of her dilled salmon. She'd learned long ago to ignore his exaggerated sense of caution.

  Merrick Fellows was her contact with the Alliance and he was usually worried about something, the price of toadstools, the build up of fairy dust in the atmosphere, and warlocks, of course.

  The café around them was crammed full of mortals on their lunch breaks who had no idea that supernatural beings walked among them. They were all blissfully ignorant of the dangerous games afoot. Rowena envied them on some level. It would be nice to go to bed each night not having to worry about the fate of the world. Although, ignorance was hardly ever blissful, actually it was quite often fatal.

  "No, you don't worry enough. The stunt you just pulled will probably end up costing you. All of us, actually. Thorne isn't your average warlock, Rowena. He's connected to the inner circle of the Coven."

  She rolled her eyes. “He isn't one of the Founders, but he's connected. That should be worth a promotion, or at least a raise. Frankly, I don't think he's all that powerful. He didn't put up much of a fight.” She would have captured him, too, if he hadn't tried to molest her.

  "You are a very clever sorcerer, Rowena, but you aren't invulnerable,” Merrick said harshly. “Hubris has always been your downfall. One day it will get you killed."

  It was an old argument. She had been apprenticed to Merrick as a young sorcerer and he had always chided her for her lack of caution. “I know that, but I'm very good at my job.” She'd captured and extinguished the powers of hundreds of warlocks all on her own.

  "You are very good at what you do, but all it takes is one hex. Just one! Warlocks are dodgy and should be treated with at least a scrap of prudence."

  "You're forgetting one thing, Merrick."

  "What's that?"

 
Rowena grinned. “I'm a bit dodgy, too."

  "This is no time for jokes!” Merrick leaned forward. “We've heard from some of our informants that Thorne is out for revenge. You humiliated him."

  "Informants?” She nearly spit out her salmon. “Merrick, you know that their information is always questionable. They're only low level turncoats who'll say anything to avoid losing their magic."

  "The Alliance believes the information we've received is accurate. We've heard it from at least two different sources.” Merrick cleared his throat. “It is rumored that Thorne wants to put you in your place."

  The Alliance was a consortium of leaders in the witch community. They worked in secret to train sorcerers to hunt and extinguish the powers of warlocks throughout the world. Magic had gone further underground since The Burning Times in Europe when warlocks and witches alike were burned at the stake at the hands of the Inquisition.

  "I expected that, Merrick. I embarrassed him. Of course he wants to kill me.” She added a little salt to her salmon to cut the buttery taste. Witches were strictly vegetarian, as a rule but she'd developed a taste for fish and chicken since becoming a sorcerer.

  "No, we have reports that there is a capture order on you, Rowena. Not a kill order. Thorne wants you very much alive."

  That was a piece of bad news. In the magical world, there were punishments far worse than death. The food in her mouth suddenly tasted like ashes, but she forced herself to swallow it before she pushed away the plate. Rowena never showed weakness to another.

  "Why? What is he planning?” she leaned forward and her bloodless fingertips gripped the table.

  "He wants to make you, uh, that is ... he wants to enslave you.” Merrick pulled at the collar of his starched cotton shirt.

  She imagined he found the topic of slavery much too unseemly to discuss with a young woman such as herself ."Thorne wants me to be his slave? Like a servant?” Merrick was acting far too uncomfortable for slavery alone to be an issue.

  "No, Rowena, he wants you to be another sort of slave altogether.” His voice had lowered to an agonized whisper. “A pleasure slave."