Impassion (Mystic)

by B. C. Burgess

  “Did you?” Chelsea asked.

  “Did I what?” he returned, pulling on his shirt.

  “Enjoy yourself,” she clarified.

  Eh, he thought, but he answered, “Yeah.”

  Tucking the covers under her arms, Chelsea sat up and scooted closer. “I’ve been with David for three months and he hasn’t found half the places you touched.”

  “David’s a mindless prick,” he pointed out, getting to his feet.

  “Maybe,” she agreed, “but I still feel bad for doing this while he’s in the hospital.”

  “Perhaps he should learn how to touch a woman,” the stranger suggested, digging into the mini-bar. He downed a travel size bottle of liquor, washing the hexless taste from his mouth. Then he walked to the phone.

  “Are you calling for breakfast?” she asked. “They started serving five minutes ago.”

  He ignored her as he sat at the desk and dialed the lobby. “Layla Callaway’s room,” he requested.

  He heard a big sigh as Chelsea fell back on the pillows, but the childish gesture was forgotten when the operator broke the news that Layla had checked out the night before.

  “What?” he blurted, shooting from his chair. “What time?”

  “I don’t have that information, sir.”

  “Did she check out in person? Or did she call?”

  “I don’t have that information either.”

  “Shit,” he cursed, slamming down the receiver.

  “What happened?” Chelsea asked.

  “She checked out,” he fumed, barely aware of the naked woman watching him. “It had to have been some time after ten. Is that when your shift ended?”

  “9:30,” she corrected.

  He moved closer to the bed, narrowing his eyes on her muted aura. “Layla didn’t call while you were down there, did she?”

  “No,” Chelsea answered, shaking her head as she shrank away. “If she did, I didn’t take the call.”

  He found truth in her wide eyes, so he closed his own, trying to calm himself. “Damn it.” Layla could be hundreds of miles away by now, and he was in Portland, screwing a hexless bitch who knew nothing.

  “Layla isn’t your sister, is she?” Chelsea realized.

  He opened his eyes, finding the clerk staring up at him like a lost puppy. “No,” he confessed, sitting beside her.

  Her face turned red as she dropped her gaze, but he lifted it back up, determined not to make a mess in the hexless world.

  “Listen to me, Chelsea,” he softly ordered, smashing short, spiky hair as he took her skull in his palm.

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, but then his magic hit her brain and her expression smoothed. “Yeah?” she mumbled.

  “You need to leave,” he instructed, mentally echoing the message, “and forget you spent the night with me. You were tired after work, so you got a room and stayed by yourself.”

  Chelsea’s eyebrows furrowed, so he sharpened his concentration and mentally repeated the command.

  “I was tired,” she decided.

  “Right,” he smirked, remembering how she kept coming back for more after the first orgasm. Too bad she wouldn’t remember them.

  “David’s heart attack wore me out,” she added.

  “Yes it did,” he encouraged. “And speaking of David, he’s a lowlife who isn’t good enough for you, so you’re going to break up with him, stop wearing so much makeup, and find someone who sees you as more than a sperm bag.”

  “Yeah,” she advocated, nodding her head.

  He relaxed, knowing his message had seeped deep enough to last. “Close your eyes,” he said, and she obeyed without hesitation. “In twenty seconds, you’re going to open your eyes, get dressed, and leave without speaking to anyone.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, a determined look pinching her features. She was eager to please.

  Convinced his mind trickery would hold, he released her head. Then he concealed himself as he stood and moved out of the way.

  When Chelsea opened her eyes, she rubbed them and scowled at her naked body. Then she reached between her legs, touching tender flesh as she looked around the room. Her gaze flew right past the stranger’s shimmers, so she slowly rose from the bed and crept toward the bathroom, finding it empty as well. She chewed a thumbnail as she contemplated the situation. Then she shivered and scrambled to find her clothes.

  The stranger leaned against the wall as he watched her retreat, and he would have been tempted to laugh if he didn’t know how it felt to be brainwashed, to be missing time and tidbits of reality. As a child, he’d lost countless hours of cognizance, and while he hadn’t suffered the fate in years, he remembered the confusion and the guilt—the inability to connect the dots.

  Once poor Chelsea had cleared the area, the stranger latched the deadbolt with a wave of his hand then lifted his concealment spells. Digging into his satchel, he retrieved a small bag of gemstones and sat at the desk.

  Time to confront the two ethereal souls guiding him, the spirits who claimed to have his best interests in mind.

  They took longer than usual to respond, and when he asked them why they kept leading him astray, they wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

  ‘You hinder your own path,’ one of the souls censured. ‘You place us all in grave danger.’

  “You?” he returned. “You’re dead.”

  ‘The witch you seek holds favor with the Heavens. We risk eternity to aid you. You must do it our way or doom us to the underworld.’

  The stranger’s nostrils flared as he impatiently drummed his thumbs on the desk. “Fine. Where is she?”

  ‘I see your heart, child. You lose sight of what’s important.’

  “I said I’d do it your way,” he snapped. “Where is she?”

  ‘She has found her birth family.’

  “Already? Damn.” He laid his forehead in his hand and breathed deep, trying not to lose his temper while connected with the spirits. “Now what?”

  ‘Now you find her.’

  “Oh now I find her,” he scoffed. “Like that wouldn’t have been easier before she had a coven to protect her.”

  ‘She’ll be no use to you dead.’

  “No,” he agreed. “She needs to stay alive. So she’s with the Conn/Kavanagh coven, right? Tell me their numbers and weaknesses.”

  A long moment passed with no reply, so he touched a gemstone and tried again. “Tell me about the Conn/Kavanagh coven.”

  Still, nothing.

  “Are you shitting me?” he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

  ‘Adjust your path,’ the spirits scolded. ‘The witch is a gift you must earn without offending the Heavens.’

  “You don’t think I’ve done enough?” he simmered, rising to his feet. “I’ve paid with blood and tears, my youth.” He curled his fingers around the lip of the tabletop and upended the desk, scattering its contents across the room. “Damn you,” he scorned, pointing at his gemstones as if they were the ethereal souls, but the connection was gone.

  “Damn you,” he quietly repeated, sliding his hands through his hair.

  He slowly filled his lungs. Then he sighed as he righted the desk with a wave of his hand and knelt to clean his mess.

  Guess it was on him to get information on the witch’s family, and that’s exactly what he’d do… at all cost. Screw his guides. Once he had the witch, he wouldn’t need them anymore.

  Chapter 9

  Waking up with Layla in his arms made Quin want to quit his job, but he knew she’d never let him. The guilt would eat at her Monday through Friday. Just as well; there was something he needed to do, some unfinished business to deal with—an unpleasant task at best, one he’d rather skip, but that wasn’t the way he did things, so he
’d man up and get it over with.

  There was also the fact that he worked with his parents and didn’t want to leave them in a lurch. They had three construction projects scheduled that week—easy tasks, but ones he would need to be there for.

  He mind searched Cinnia, who was more than happy to share her coffee. Then he looked down, watching Layla’s aura serenely swirl.

  “Layla Love,” he whispered, and her fingers curled, dragging nails down his chest. “Mmm...” His arousal from the night before was still very much alive, and her fingernails had it flaring. “I love waking up with you.”

  Her breathing quickened as her aura pulsed with a variety of emotions. Bright yellow was abundant, as was the very shiny and substantial dark brown. His eye color almost appeared black in her aura, and it was the most beautiful hue in the hazy rainbow. Quin had always considered his eye color mundane, but on seeing it in her aura, he gained a new respect for it. She made it look lovely by casting it with a purity and brightness that surpassed every other hue. Dotted with tiny, pulsating stars, the espresso river swam through spirals of silver ribbons, and its current hugged her body, never straying too far from her heart. Quin had never seen an aura like hers. It amazed him every time he looked at it, but he was careful not to react since the exposure made her uncomfortable.

  But not as uncomfortable as she is now, he thought, watching the colorful haze turn inward, like it wanted nothing more than to melt into her skin. Quin wasn’t used to seeing such things in witches, but he knew exactly what it meant. She was mortified. The flesh where her blushing cheek lay grew hot, and he tightened his hug, at a loss for words that might make her feel better.

  Mortified couldn’t begin to describe how Layla felt.

  As she lay in the most heavenly place on earth, red-faced and full of regret, she was far beyond embarrassed. She knew she shouldn’t be; knew he wouldn’t want her to be, but she couldn’t push it away. In an impressive act of unselfishness, he’d put his own needs aside and taken her to a place she’d never been, making her feel the most amazing things. In return, she’d fallen asleep. Blah.

  Well, the least she could do was show her appreciation now. But how was she supposed to do that? Thank you wouldn’t cut it, and she was too insecure and inexperienced to give him what he’d given her. Damn. She was clueless. And if she didn’t respond soon, he would feel like he needed to reassure her, which was the last thing she wanted.

  She took a calming breath, magicked her teeth clean then smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

  “Hey, beautiful. It’s good to see your smile.”

  “You, too. Sorry I fell asleep without... without...” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I fell asleep, too.”

  She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Before or after I did?”

  “After.” He pulled her up his body and laid her head on his pillow. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well. You?”

  “Yes, better than I have in...” He grinned and tilted his head. “…ever.”

  “Me, too, Quin. Last night was... it was...” Damn it, Layla, get a grip. “It was beyond amazing. Consider yourself proven.”

  He leaned closer, stroking her hot cheek as he softly kissed her lips. “It was amazing for me, too. I would love to do it again sometime.”

  She searched his eyes, finding no reason to doubt him, but she knew leaving his needs unsatisfied must have driven him crazy. He’d definitely proven himself in more ways than one.

  This time she kissed him, and she didn’t kiss him softly. She kissed him deeply while pressing her body to his. He was stunned at first, but quickly got over it, taking her face in both hands as he kissed her back. When they broke apart, they stayed close, smiling as they gasped for air.

  “Well,” he breathed, “this is a good morning.”

  She giggled and gave him another kiss. Then she rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, knowing he was watching her go.

  Once her feet found smooth tiles, she closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, reaching between her legs while trying to clear her dizzy head. She could still feel the effects of his touch, and her panties remained moist. Or maybe that was due to their most recent kiss. Whatever the case, she swarmed with traces of him, inside and out, and she felt like she’d fallen into a wine-soaked dream. Heady and light as feather, she had no control over her emotions or body. They’d been seized by a man she’d known for three days.

  Her stomach continually fluttered as she took care of business and washed up. Then she grabbed the doorknob and steadied her wobbly knees, trying to act normal as she entered the room.

  Quin sat in a chair by the coffee table, but stood when she walked in.

  “You put your shirt back on,” she pouted, closing the distance between them.

  His shirt vanished, and of course she flinched before laughing at her inability to adjust. “That’s better,” she approved, reaching for his pecs. Her palm found smooth warmth. Then her cheek found his heart. “You’ve spoiled me now. You can never wear a shirt again.”

  He laughed as he ran a hand down her hair. “If you say so, but that whole no shoes, no shirt, no service thing will limit where I shop.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

  He pulled her tighter against him then vanished her tank top. “Now what will we do?”

  Layla had felt it immediately, as her breasts were now pressed against rigid abs, but his firm hold prevented her from doing anything about it, so she tried to relax. “Guess we’ll have to shop at a nudist colony.”

  “There you go,” he approved, spreading his palms across her back. “I have something for you.”

  “Of course you do. You’re always spoiling me.”

  A mug appeared a few feet away, hovering right in her line of sight, and her eyes widened on the steam curling toward the chandelier.

  “Would you like a cup of Cinnia’s coffee?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, stifling the urge to lick her lips.

  “Take it,” he offered.

  Keeping herself pressed against him, she reached for the cup, but it hovered a few inches beyond her fingertips. A second later, she figured out his game. “No fair,” she exclaimed, looking up to find a mischievous smile stretching from one dimple to the other. “You’re teasing an addict.”

  His grin widened. “I know. Want it?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then get it. I’ll let go.”

  “I bet you will,” she murmured, raising a magical palm.

  “Nuh-uh,” he countered, and the cup floated further away. “You have to walk over there and get it.”

  “Oh yeah?” she returned, narrowing her eyes on the mug, but again, it floated further away.

  “You’re only making it a longer walk,” he noted. Then he rubbed her back and kissed her head. “Does it really bother you that bad?”

  Layla found his eyes, knowing it shouldn’t bother her at all. He’d already seen, kissed and licked them, but in the light of day, none of that seemed to matter. Nevertheless, she owed him much more than a peek at her breasts, so she took a deep breath and a large step back.

  A smile brightened his features as his gaze dropped to her chest, and heat rose from her toes to her nose, but she didn’t move toward her coffee or hide herself. She just stood there, ignoring her squirming stomach while offering him a nice, long look.

  He didn’t take it, though. The moment he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he raised his eyebrows and found her face. “You just made my day,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. “Not only because your body is amazing, but because you trust me enough to let me look at it. Thank you.” He held out a hand, and her coffee zoomed into it. “
Here. I can’t deny you a second longer.”

  She took the cup then turned around, leaning into him as she sipped. “I don’t mind what you do with your hands, just don’t make me burn myself.”

  His aura swelled around her as one of his forearms crossed her chest, above her breasts. “I wouldn’t dare burn an angel.”

  Layla relaxed and took another sip. She should have known he’d be a gentleman.

  When her cup was half empty, Quin refilled it and kissed her head. “It’s time for me to go to work.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, heart plummeting. Of course he had to go. He had a life, and it was Monday morning. He’d spent his entire weekend catering to her; now it was time to face reality. “Okay,” she agreed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

  “Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

  “No,” she refused. “That would make me feel awful.” She turned toward him, forgetting she was exposed. “What time will you get home?”

  “Around five.” He took her mug and floated it to the table. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist, lifting her into a warm hug. “I’ll miss you while I’m gone.”

  “I’ll miss you, too,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.

  He held her for several seconds, stroking and nuzzling her hair. Then he replaced their shirts and lowered her feet to the floor. “Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

  “I’ll fend for myself. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “My pleasure. Call Morrigan when you’re ready. I’m sure she and Daleen are impatiently waiting. I’ll see you this evening?”

  Layla thought about telling him he didn’t have to come over if he had other things to do, but she selfishly nixed the idea. “Yes, please.”

  He leaned in for a kiss then straightened. “Bye, Layla Love.”

  Her heart rate quickened, and she wasn’t sure if the increase stemmed from the pleasure she got from him saying her name, the sensations he delivered with his kisses, or the dread she felt over him leaving.