The Sorceress Screams

by Anya Breton

“Hola. Rebecca.”

  Oh. That sensual voice. My cheeks warmed.

  “You’re well?”

  I nodded even though he wouldn’t see it. “Yes, nothing happened all day except a little spat between my employee and yours.”

  “Oh?” There was definite interest in his lifted pitch.

  “Not my place to explain,” I said, backtracking on the topic.

  I’d fibbed slightly. One thing of note had happened today. Dr. Yates had begun treatment on Desmond’s guests. Not something I ought to tell Maximo, at least not over the phone, or without him prompting me.

  “Should I have a word with my employee?” he asked.

  I chuckled. “Not unless I’m willing to have a word with mine. And I’m not.”

  “This sounds … intriguing. But I didn’t call to hear of Ali Mac’s performance. I would like to invite you for dinner. Will you come to my home?”

  “You’re not going to kill me, are you?” I winced as soon as the words left my lips.

  There was an uncomfortable silence in which I wished I could see his face. Was he struggling with how to lie? Or was he miffed that I’d asked at all?

  “I’m not … going to hurt you. Rebecca.” His resonant voice was a curious mixture of assurance, sensuality, and cool irritation. It must have been in the slight pause he’d placed after the second word and his usual stop before he spoke my given name. “I’d have thought sending you my best daytime guard would have proven that.”

  “You can’t blame me for worrying after last night.”

  “I can blame myself for not making it clear what I want from you.”

  I shivered from the promise of wicked things in his sexy voice.

  Maximo returned us to the topic at hand. “You’ll come?”

  Because there was still the little matter of my mother’s ring, I couldn’t refuse. “Yeah.”

  “Excellent. I’ll instruct Ali Mac to bring you from your apartment.”

  An unspoken request for me to dress nicely?

  “Okay,” I said.

  “Take your time. Rebecca.”

  My teeth clenched at the proof he wanted me to get dolled up. Maximo disconnected the call before I could respond. Ali Mac’s phone rang a moment later.

  “Yeah?” Ali Mac’s attention switched to me, and then away. “Got it.”

  The werewolf checked the time on the phone. We had little over an hour before the shop closed. He must be hungry because he hadn’t accepted any of the food I’d offered him. He’d remained by the back wall, leaned slightly against it with his eyes tracking over everything outside. Exactly as he did now.

  My phone rang again. I lifted it with the intention of grumbling at Maximo for the whole “take your time” bit. It wasn’t Maximo. Desmond was calling.

  I greeted him brusquely.

  Likewise he got right to the point. “The coalition meeting is set for Monday at nine.”

  “Nine at night?”

  “No. Nine in the morning.”

  I stifled a grumble because Monday was my day off. I liked to sleep in on my days off. “Fine.”

  “Jacqueline and Veronika are almost clean. Dr—”

  I made a noise to interrupt him because I didn’t want him giving out the doctor’s name where Maximo or any of his agents could hear it.

  “What?” Desmond asked. “Is someone listening in?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Ah.” The single syllable was sour. “The doctor says they’ll need a few more and then they’ll be clear to go home.” His vague, professional words implied the women needed a few more plasmapheresis treatments before they’d be clear of the blood bond’s antibodies. “Jacqueline wants to see you before then. Can you get to Flagstaff tomorrow? I can drive you if you need. I’m taking them to the airport after. I think Jacqueline would like it if you came with us.”

  I didn’t think I’d had that much of an impact on the Dark witch, but I couldn’t say that to Desmond. He wouldn’t know one way or the other.

  “I’m supposed to go to Maximo’s Independence Day picnic,” I said.

  Desmond was silent for an uncomfortable interval. “I am as well. I can get you back in time.”

  There were any number of arguments I could make to get out of it, but Desmond’s insistence suggested he had something he needed to discuss before Monday. I relented with a small sigh. “Yeah, okay. You buy the coffee.”

  “I’ll be by at ten. Call me if you change your mind about the safe house.”

  “I won’t.” I disconnected before he could finish the irritated huff he’d begun.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My outfit had better be to Maximo’s liking or I’d walk home early. The shiny reptile print, black and white skirt paired with an orange chiffon and lace, single-shoulder tank top was one of my better options. I’d even worn my girly, mary-jane pumps over the fence-net thigh highs instead of my usual Docs. He could take a flying leap off Olympus if he had a problem with my look today.

  Javier met me at the house’s entrance while Ali Mac pulled his pick-up around the cul-de-sac that formed Maximo’s driveway. Javier’s neutral expression told me nothing of what was to come or if he found my outfit acceptable. Nor had Ali Mac’s. The werewolf had barely looked at me when I’d emerged from the apartment and found him seated on the cement porch out front.

  Javier gestured for me to follow him. We crossed through the formal living room that was rarely used. We exited through the double wooden doors on the other side of the house. Javier strode across the wide porch to the lit stone walkway beyond. I bounced down the stone steps fast on his heels so I wouldn’t be left behind.

  We passed a wrought iron bench flanked by large potted plants and then ducked beneath a wooden arch covered with a vine-like plant I didn’t recognize. Splashes of water against water filtered into my ears a moment before I caught the delicate strains of a Spanish guitar playing softly over speakers. There was a pool or a hot tub, and someone was in it.

  Javier guided me through a curving garden filled with rose bushes, flowering trees, thick grass of both the short and long persuasion, and even trees that might bear fruit in the autumn. Slipping beneath yet another arched doorway, we emerged onto a black ceramic-tiled surface with blue and white accents that surrounded a meandering pool.

  Maximo’s figure glided beneath the clear water from one end to the other. He made smooth motions I’d only seen from Olympic athletes. As he passed the middle point, the large center tile beneath the water became visible. The tile had been painted with a blue and white design of a lion above and below three wavy lines—perhaps some sort of family crest.

  He drew his head above the crystalline water, facing the opposite direction.

  Before he could turn to make the trip back, Javier called out. “She has arrived, First.”

  “Excellent.” Maximo whipped the water from his hair, sending a spray of droplets across the surface. “See her to the family room, offer her refreshment, and tell her I’ll be with her shortly.”

  “Uh, s-sir … I’m sorry. I thought you’d said to bring her to you when she arrived?”

  Maximo pivoted in the water. Only his shoulders crested above the surface. His sable eyebrows lifted when he spotted me.

  Not a particularly positive reaction. Had it been for my outfit or for his employee’s failure?

  “It’s fine, Javier. Thank you.” He nodded his head for his man. Maximo’s lips spread into an amiable smile. “Hola. Rebecca.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  “You’ve arrived a bit earlier than I anticipated.”

  I didn’t apologize because it wasn’t my fault he thought women needed longer than forty-five minutes to get home, change, and travel the short distance to his house.

  Maximo ducked beneath the surface, long arms gracefully spreading in front of him in a breaststroke across the pool. I noted the stone steps on this end a moment before his head popped up again. He repeated his action of whipping the water out of his hair and t
hen rose until the water was at stomach level.

  Droplets made lazy zigzags down his olive sienna skin while others got tangled in the coating of fine sable hair over his chest and upper abs. My mouth went a little dry upon seeing all those defined muscles. He was a beautiful man. There was no doubt about that. He’d been in excellent shape when he’d died.

  He lifted himself onto the first stair. Beneath the upper abs were the equally toned lower abs—this much I’d expected to see. What I hadn’t expected was that Maximo de Sole swam in the buff.

  My face burned even as he strode up onto the ceramic tile ledge without a hint of embarrassment. And why would he be embarrassed? Though he wasn’t terribly well endowed, he most certainly wasn’t small.

  My mind provided a mock-up for what he’d look like when arousal took hold. It was a nice visual—the kind women would drop dollar bills by the hundreds to see.

  I stumbled backwards when he started for me, fearful he’d decided we were no longer going slowly.

  A mischievous smile formed on his face. “Rebecca,” he said in his sensual way. “My towel is just behind you.”

  “Oh.”

  A brighter flush rode high in my cheeks because I’d thought the worst. I whirled around. Sure enough, stretched over one of the teak lounge chairs was a fluffy white towel. I snatched it up and handed it behind me without turning.

  His cool fingers curled over mine atop the towel. A spark of heat slid down my arm. He was so close, without a scrap of clothing over his wonderful body. It would be so easy to touch him.

  And I wanted to.

  I couldn’t lie to myself and say it was because of my mother’s ring. I liked how he made me feel—like I was wholly worth the effort and hassle he had to put in to have me.

  “What spat did our employees have at your shop?”

  The question on a topic other than his nudity gave me something to focus on. I needed it as otherwise desire had threatened to take over my ability to properly reason.

  I cleared the cotton out of my mouth with a discreet cough. “Like I said, it’s not for me to say. Ask Ali Mac.”

  “I will,” Maximo said. “He was otherwise a good guard?”

  “Yes, even though I knocked him on his ass a few times when he arrived.”

  His tone sharpened. “What did he do?”

  I made the mistake of turning. He had the towel pressed to his right arm, blotting away the moisture there. The rest of him was still tantalizingly nude. I lost my breath.

  This time my cough wasn’t discreet. “He didn’t do anything. He didn’t say why he was there. I assumed he’d been sent to kill me.”

  “Rebecca.” This time Maximo’s voice had slowed in disappointment. “I didn’t and don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reached his free arm out and brushed the hair away from my face. My body reacted instantly at the now familiar gesture. He must have heard my pulse spike because his attention dropped to my lips. Maximo rolled onto the balls of his feet toward me, wavering at the apex of the movement before drawing back.

  “Go inside,” he said. “You know the way to the family room?”

  “Which one is the family room?”

  Maximo’s voice went hoarse. “Go to my office instead.”

  I hesitated because I was a little miffed at his imperial tone.

  “Dios,” Maximo said. “Go before I pull you into the pool with me.”

  His white-knuckled grip on the towel confirmed he was struggling. I eased backwards as if he were a wild animal that would attack if spooked. And who was to say he wasn’t?

  My caution remained until I reached the wooden arch where I could no longer see him. I turned and speed-walked for the door. Once inside, I ran for the office, dropping down into his leather chair to wait on the easing of my pounding heart.

  That had been close. And yet, perhaps not close enough.

  ****

  Maximo found me in the family room fifteen minutes later. He was freshly showered with damp locks, a casual pair of black linen pants, and a white linen top. Had I not seen him in far less recently, I would have counted this outfit as being revealing. He’d barely buttoned the shirt, and the pants rode low on his hips, giving glimpses of portions of the male anatomy I rarely got to see.

  He must have sent Javier to me when he’d come inside because the vampire lackey had appeared in the office seconds after my heart had calmed. Javier had shown me the way to the casual family room at the other end of the large house.

  Its beige stucco walls and dark limestone floor were offset by thick wooden beams, soft incandescent lighting, and sturdy brown leather furniture. The focal point of the room was a toss up between the massive flat screen television hung above the fireplace and the painting behind the sofa. I’d been in one of the deep chairs staring at the latter—a composition containing a black-clad horseman within a moonlit landscape—when Maximo had arrived.

  “I’m sorry. Rebecca,” he said without coming any closer than the chair farthest from me. “It wasn’t my intention to be short with you.”

  During my wait I’d worked out what had happened. He did want to go slowly, but it had been a little too much for us both to be by that pool. So he’d sent me inside.

  Somehow he looked wholly innocent. “You aren’t miffed with me?”

  I tilted my head to the left and leveled a challenging look at him.

  His lips spread into a mischievous smile. “I’m not mocking you. I find your choice of words endearing.”

  “No, I’m not miffed with you,” I said.

  “Good.”

  Maximo came around the chair that had served as a barrier. He made his way over the area rug in front of me. There he extended his hand in silent invitation.

  I set mine in his cool palm, allowing him to draw me out of the seat. Our bodies were inches apart. The fresh lavender and warm sand scent of him chased away the lingering chlorine. The slight curve of his lips as he gazed into my eyes was a warning of what was about to happen.

  He curled his left arm around my waist, pulling my pelvis against his. The other hand slipped into my hair and held me steady. But instead of immediately kissing me, Maximo merely held me. I could do nothing but hold his intent gaze. Flecks of gold and green in his chocolate irises were visible at this distance.

  “Do you understand yet what I want from you. Rebecca?”

  The sensual voice slid beneath my skin, sending shivers of heat over my arms. My heartbeat increased. I drew in a slow, ragged breath.

  I was unwilling to answer because though I thought I knew what he wanted now, I didn’t know what his ultimate goal was. A man like Maximo de Sole didn’t hold onto his rule without being clever. He’d probably formulated a plan for how best to use me the moment he’d set eyes on me. And he could afford to take his time enacting an elaborate plan. He was as close to immortal as a mortal could be.

  His thumb moved over a sensitive place on the nape of my neck. A shiver shot from the tiny spot right on down to my toes.

  “You,” he said. “I want you. I want to be inside you.”

  “What will you have to look forward to once you’ve had that?”

  Maximo’s lips spread into a wickeder version of his smile. “Having you … in as many places as I have access.” He stepped a hair closer, eyes dropping to my lips.

  He would finally kiss me now that I could barely breathe.

  But … he didn’t.

  “And dancing,” he said, words a mere breath against my mouth.

  I let out a nervous laugh. He pulled away. I wavered on my feet toward him, barely keeping myself from falling forward. And then he headed out of the room. Cool air replaced where he’d been, and disappointment crowded my thoughts.

  Maximo talked of wanting me, yet he’d left me without making good on the implied promise of a kiss. He’d never done that before. What was his game?

  Further confounding me, he called back, “Dinner is served in the breakfast room.”

  ****
/>   Maximo’s breakfast room was nicer than most people’s formal dining rooms. The wooden baker’s rack alone was wider than my last dorm room. A gleaming chestnut table capable of holding six diners was positioned three feet from a pair of French doors. And the polished green-gray marble floor was costly enough to be found in a palatial retreat’s dramatic foyer. As if these details weren’t enough, there was even room for a small sitting area between the doors that led to the kitchen and corridor.

  Two place settings had been arranged for us. The white plates atop golden chargers were edged in a ribbon of gold. The crest I’d seen in the pool was emblazoned in the center of the china. I stared at the lions until Maximo set a stuffed chicken breast atop them.

  We held benign conversation over the meal. He asked how my day had gone. The conversation took a serious turn when he admitted he’d been briefed on the situation with Jacqueline and Veronika. He also shared that he knew the identity of the doctor responsible for the treatment’s success.

  I bit back a warning that none of them were to be harmed. It would be an insult if he’d had no ill intent for them. And it should be obvious I cared about their safety. Why else would I have risked mine to free them?

  Maximo’s tone was suspiciously light when he questioned me on what I’d be doing tomorrow. If he’d been briefed on the situation with the enthralled witches, then Ali Mac also would have told him about Desmond’s phone call. So I explained exactly what was scheduled tomorrow.

  He suggested I take his guard with me to the airport in case Nadir sent one of his Were after me. I declined, citing what I’d told Desmond about earning no respect until I stopped hiding behind people. Though his lips were relaxed, the dark glint in his chocolate eyes hinted his displeasure. A portion of our relationship was built upon my need for his protection. I didn’t point out I hadn’t dumped him now that Nadir was gone. We both knew it was the ring on his pinky that kept me from ending this.

  After dinner, Maximo returned us to the family room for a little television. Unlike me, he had every channel known to man. And he had a library of DVDs in a hidden walk-in closet off the family room. The man was serious about his movies.

  He shook the cover of a Western at me from his spot at the edge of the room. I shrugged because it was his house, his rules. But when the movie bored me to tears and all I could manage to concentrate on were the delicious waves of heat he sent over my body with every caress, I decided I should have spoken up about my distaste for the genre.