by Lola Taylor
Please, please, don’t let me screw this up.
The incantation’s words came to her easily enough. Memorizing spells, no matter the language, had never been hard for her. Her photographic memory probably had something to do with that. It was one of the few good things her mother had passed down to her before vanishing.
She couldn’t think of those things now. She needed every drop of concentration she could muster. Wind smelling of spring and summer swirled about the room, surrounding them in a vortex. Though her eyes were closed, she could tell the room was growing brighter, and subsequently, the heat more intense.
The temperature rose as Elijah clung to her, pressing her against his chest as she struggled to maintain her grip on the rapidly vibrating bottle of Lunimora. Some said it was the soul of an angel. Which Verika thought was stupid, since she was pretty sure angels just “were” and that they didn’t need souls. Others said Lunimora was bottled moonlight, or fairy magic. No one knew for sure what it was, but since its discovery in the early 1900s, it had become one of the most useful potions available.
In the midst of the swirling winds, Verika heard people banging on the door. “Don’t let go,” she shouted, then threw the bottle on the ground.
It sounded like a bomb went off. The de-spelling room would be a wreck. She almost worried Emilia would suffer a blow, but honestly, she didn’t care. The bitch had tried to kill her.
An eye for an eye…
She had been taught better than that. Yet, she couldn’t deny the dark satisfaction the thought of Emilia’s too-perfect, and probably magically-altered, face getting cut up brought her.
It put a smile on her face.
Elijah shouted in surprise as they were sucked through the light-hole the potion had created and flung through time and space.
The world was a tunnel of color and light. Images and sounds rushed past them, making Verika dizzy as the magic required to cast the spell depleted her energy. Her eyelids became very heavy, staying closed even after they’d come to an abrupt halt and had rolled against what felt like pavement.
The darkness spun behind her closed eyes, and there was a high-pitched ringing in her ears that wouldn’t go away.
A deep, masculine voice that reminded her of happier times said her name from far away. She remembered calloused hands touching her face much like the ones doing so now, of a hot mouth blazing kisses down her neck, nuzzling her awake.
“Mmmmm… Nik…” she murmured, slowly coming to.
The hands froze, then removed themselves altogether. “What do you mean, ‘Nik’?”
Something in her brain registered that this voice was slightly deeper, with a huskier timbre, and her eyes flashed open as her recollection of the past few minutes came rushing back. She stared up at Elijah.
Sunlight poured down around him. He hovered over her, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. Neither of them breathed. Then he blinked and let out a huge breath. “Holy shit, you slept with my brother, didn’t you?”
Her mouth flopped open. “I did not—that is so not—” She winced as a sharp pain struck her brain and stars sparked before her eyes. She gritted her teeth and suppressed a groan of agony. Her head, everywhere in fact, hurt so badly she could hardly stand to talk, let alone move. Well, at least she wasn’t unconscious. And she knew it would be rough from the get-go, so at least she was prepared for it this time.
Always find the silver lining, no matter how much crap life throws at you. It had taken her a long time to think like that, given her tendency to be dark and bitter, but all of her self-help books had helped her turn her life around.
Elijah looked her over with a worried glance. “Are you all right?”
“Yes… no…” She struggled to shove the words out between her gritted teeth. Her hand groped along the ground before finding a brick wall. Her fingers fought to get a grip as she tried hauling herself up.
“Here. Allow me.” Elijah’s strong arm snaked under her shoulders, and her heart fluttered.
“Thanks,” she said as he helped her to her feet. That rush of desire still lingered deep in her belly in a pool of restless heat. She had to get away from him, before he undid her completely. She took one step—and immediately found herself kissing the wall as her knees nearly gave out. Damn, she didn’t remember being this weak the first time she’d done the spell. Then again, she didn’t remember much of anything because she had been unconscious.
Elijah walked right next to her as she clung to the wall and began to move again. “You should lean on me,” he said.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, waving him away only to stumble again. Her face flamed with embarrassment. Some powerful witch she was.
“No, you’re not,” he said. “And unless you want to scuff up that pretty face of yours by face-planting on the ground, I suggest you let me help you.”
“I said I don’t need—ah! Hey!” She gave out a surprised yelp as he scooped her up in his big, strong arms.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her entire body aware of how solid his muscles were. She wondered what they would feel like beneath her fingertips, if his bare skin was really as delectable as it felt…
Okay, it was time for a reality check. Under no circumstances was she getting involved with another werewolf. Thanks to the whole mating Mark drama, you were almost always guaranteed to be left behind with a broken heart. Her fellow witches had tried talking her out of the relationship with Nik, but she hadn’t listened. She hadn’t wanted to face the truth. She’d thought that if their love was strong enough, then the mating fever wouldn’t matter.
But it did. It had wrecked every hope and dream she’d had with Nik, and the knowledge that she’d been so foolish had haunted her since.
She had to be smart about this, no matter how much her body may crave Mr. Sexy’s touch.
Or his mouth, or other appendages…
“You’re blushing.”
“What?” she gasped, blinking.
He slowly grinned. “I hope it wasn’t because of me. Because then, I might start blushing.”
Was he flirting with her? God, it had been so long since anyone had really noticed her like that, had made her heart flutter so… It wasn’t because men hadn’t tried. It was because she hadn’t let them get that close.
She cleared her throat. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now put me down so we can get out of here.”
Despite his protests, she wriggled and squirmed until he set her down with an exasperated sigh, grumbling something about “stubborn witches.”
Keeping one hand on the wall to steady herself, she steeled her spine and forced one foot in front of the other. Although her legs felt like clay, she kept moving until they reached the mouth of the alleyway.
Elijah kept a wary eye on her at all times, until the glittering and noisy monstrosity in front of him drew his eye. He stared. “You have got to be joking. Disneyland?”
“Disney World, actually. Disneyland’s in California. This is Florida.”
He observed the palm trees. “So it is.” He tentatively reached out to touch one leafy branch, as if unsure it was real. “Why here?”
Her chest tightened as she inhaled the slightly salty scent in the air, a scent she would never be able to get out of her soul. “I don’t know.”
But she did know. She had asked the spell to take her some place safe. It chose her homeland.
It was just as well, because she knew no matter where they went, they would never be completely safe now.
Verika sighed and walked toward the crowded parking lot.
Elijah lingered behind. “Where are you going?” he called.
“To get us a car,” she said over her shoulder with a foxy grin.
For someone who never broke the rules, she was feeling surprisingly alive.
And that, in turn, made her very daring.
Elijah had to hand it to her—he didn’t think she’d have the balls to do it.
“Grand theft auto” and “perfect little witch” didn’t belong together in the same sentence. Now, he ate his words as they buzzed along the highway in a new, jet-black Corvette, a stolen prepaid phone sitting in the cup holder between them.
He didn’t think they were ever going to leave. She’d stood by the car, murmuring enchantments and God knew what else as people walked by staring at her like she was crazy. The Latin incantations he recognized as protection and tracing-repellent spells did wonders for encouraging people to keep their distance. At least she was thorough. He supposed it did make sense that a cop would know the best ways to avoid other cops.
This whole epic “getting captured” screw-up was starting to work out better than he’d thought.
“I could get used to this,” Verika said, breaking the long, tense silence that had stretched between them.
“Stealing shit?”
She gave him a wry look. “I was going to say the Corvette. I’ve never been a girl to drool over fast cars, but she sure is pretty.”
For the car’s outrageous price tag, she’d better be. She’d better have gold-plated rims, too. He studied Verika sidelong. Her shoulders were more relaxed and her knuckles weren’t stark-white anymore. “You seem less tense.”
“What gave the impression I was to begin with?”
He gave her a “really?” look. “I don’t know; the fact it looked like you were about to snap that poor steering wheel in two?”
She eased her grip and drummed her fingers along the rim. “I’m always like this.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… are you always this stressed out?”
“Yeah,” she admitted, “usually. I don’t think my body would know how to function if it wasn’t under a constant state of duress.”
“Sounds depressing.”
She shrugged, not saying anything.
He scratched his brain for something to say. Talking to women had never been a strong suit of his, not like it had been for his younger brother, Nik. Whom she had apparently shagged at some point in time. The thought of Nik, God love him, running his paws all over Verika’s naked body made him want to punch something.
Which surprised the hell out of him.
Why are you so protective? It’s not like you have any claim over her.
Not that he could claim her even if he wanted to, and that was a pretty damned big if. At twenty-nine, his mating fever had yet to appear. Sometimes, he thought he was doomed to walk this earth alone, never to fall in love. He’d been in love before… he thought. Or, at least, what his definition of love was, based on what he’d read in books and seen in movies. He hadn’t witnessed much of it firsthand since their dad had been a rowdy, abusive son of a bitch, and the Order…
He shivered, willing to do anything except think of them.
“You have that look on your face again,” Verika commented, making him jump.
He ran a hand over his face. God, he needed therapy. “It’s just been a long day.”
“Tell me about it. My parents’ house is pretty close, over in Seacrest.”
He’d never heard of it, but whatever. He was just along for the ride now. Though she was what he feared and despised the most, he found himself unnervingly willing to trust her. “So you grew up here?”
“More or less.” She pressed her lips together when he waited patiently for her to elaborate. “I’m adopted.”
He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “What happened to your parents?”
She stared at the open road, her eyes distant and sad. “I don’t know. I mean, my father died when I was really young, and my mother dropped me off at child services and vanished without a trace. No one’s seen or heard from her since.” She took a shaky breath. “And I haven’t been able to find her.”
With magic, he added silently. Wow. “That sucks.”
“It is what it is. Fortunately, I was adopted by a nice family. I had a more or less normal life growing up… minus the magical hiccups.”
“Do your folks know you’re a witch?”
She nodded. “My mother always was a believer of the supernatural. And my dad grew up in the sixties, so he’s cool with it.” She smiled. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”
“How come you never went home?”
She sighed. “No time. Work always consumed my life.”
He thought about asking her about what went on with his brother but decided against it. Instead, he said, “So what’s your specialty?”
She immediately tensed again. “Something secret.”
Oh, she shouldn’t have done that. He hated secrets. With a devilish grin, he grabbed the phone up. “We’ll see about that. There are no secrets on the Internet.” He began punching buttons.
She glanced at him, then back at the road a few times. “What are you doing?”
“Seeing if you’re on witchesandbitches.com.”
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me! That site’s up again? Where the hell are they basing their server now?” She growled. “I can’t even count on both hands anymore the number of times I’ve shut down their illegal site.” She smacked her hand against the wheel and growled. “Dammit, we’re not supposed to post registries of witches or warlocks online. And we’re especially not supposed to post their real names and powers.” She leaned her head back against the seat. “If I’m not fired or demoted when we get back, I have to report this to the chief. He hates that site as much as I do.”
“Do you spell your name just like it sounds?” he asked when he got to the search box, completely ignoring her woes.
She pressed her lips together. He took that as a yes and began typing. “How’d your parents come up with that name anyway?”
She looked like she wasn’t going to tell him. “My mother couldn’t decide if she liked Erika or Veronica more. So she married the two.”
“It’s unique, at least.”
She snorted. “I can’t tell you the number of times it’s been misspelled.”
“I can imagine,” he murmured, scanning over the list results. She wasn’t hard to find, not with a name like that.
“Verika Tate,” he read. “Blood Type A, Height blah, blah, blah.” He scanned the boring stats to get to the more interesting ones. “Here we go. Affiliation: DPI Detective.” He whistled. “Someone’s been making good grades. Type of magic—” He squinted and frowned. “Unknown? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means it’s none of your business!” Verika snapped and snatched the phone out of his hand. She muttered yet another protection spell on it and tossed it back in the cup holder.
He stared at her, nonplussed. “You mean they don’t know what type of witch you are?”
Her jaw ticked and she stared straight ahead at the road. “No,” she finally said with force, as if admitting so had taken great effort. “I never showed an affinity with a specific type of magic.”
He frowned. That had to be tough while she was growing up. Having spent time with the Order, he knew magic was everything in their world, and affinities for a certain type of magic was crucial to social acceptance. He suddenly felt pity for her. How many taunts and jeers had she endured growing up? Did she always feel like an outcast?
Suddenly, her perfectionist nature made sense. She had something to prove, that she was just as good as everyone else.
“Eh,” he said, trying to make light of the heavy subject, “it only serves to make you more unique. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”
She looked at him in surprise and stared. Slowly, she smiled and her eyes warmed.
Which, subsequently, caused the ice around his heart to begin to melt.
Elijah was beginning to surprise her more and more. Given his somewhat aloof and arrogant attitude, his tenderness and understanding had thrown her off guard. Nik had been the same way… sort of. He always did things, even sympathizing, with one hundred percent effort. Elijah’s method was less overwhelming and more comforting.
It was nice.
She spent the remainder of their drive trying not to think about how much she was starting to enjoy his company. Or looking at him. Thanks to her earlier examination, she couldn’t help but to imagine that strong, hard body of his naked..
An erotic fantasy played out in her head, one that involved her legs wrapped around his waist while he did things to her that blew her mind.
“What’s that sappy look on your face for?”
She blinked, swiftly coming back to reality. “Nothing,” she blurted. The road had never looked so interesting.
Elijah snickered and flames licked her face, as if he knew what she’d been thinking about all along.
From then on, their sparse conversation consisted of him slipping in any sexual innuendo he could. It would have been childish, if it wasn’t so incredibly hot coming from those sinful lips of his.
By the time they reached a gas station, she was so flustered she could hardly think. Paying with cash, she fueled up, and off they went.
“We’re going to your folks’ house now?” he asked, shifting his weight. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was nervous. It was cute.
“Not yet,” she said. “There’s one more place we need to visit first. That marking on your back worries me. We should figure out exactly what it is.” She nibbled at her lip. In truth, she already knew what it was, but she didn’t dare tell Elijah for fear of worrying him further.
When she’d seen the mark shimmer dark red, her heart had nearly dropped into her stomach. Blood Magic could be volatile, worse than Black, or Death, Magic. There were so many intricacies and complications that could arise. The only reason someone tattooed someone with their blood was to link that person to them. Most witches and warlocks rarely dabbled in Blood Magic because of the serious consequences that could come about as a result of a faulty spell. All it took was one wrong symbol or mispronounced word for things to go to hell quickly.
And once you were there, there wasn’t much you could do about it.