Connor slid his hand into the elastic and ghosted his fingers over my shaved mound. He moaned when he slipped his forefinger into my folds and found out just how wet I was for him, how much I needed him. When he pushed the finger inside me, I’m not sure whose groan was the loudest. The feral noises that left his throat fed my hunger. It had been so long since I’d been touched this way—two years to be precise. I hadn’t had the desire to be with anyone else since I’d left. It would have felt like a betrayal, even though I’d left him and had believed our break-up to be permanent.
“You like me fucking you with my fingers?” he asked against my lips. He didn’t wait for an answer before he stole another heated kiss that made me quickly forget the question.
Connor’s finger began to move insistently inside me and his thumb trailed circles over my clit as his mouth latched onto my breast, sucking it hard. My entire body began to tremble with the aching need for him to fuck me. When his thumb rubbed harder and he pushed another finger inside me, my body felt hyper-receptive, overloaded with so many amazing sensations that I didn’t know which one to concentrate on first. His mouth was doing wonderful things to my nipples, his thumb was rubbing relentlessly against my clit and his fingers were sliding in and out of my wet depths. It was damn near impossible to ignore Connor’s hard cock grinding against my thigh, too, because I wanted it in me.
Pulling his mouth off my nipple with a loud pop, Connor captured my lips and took ownership of them while he continued to fuck me with his fingers. With a loud, primal-sounding growl, he pulled them out and slid them into his mouth, sucking on them hungrily. Holding my gaze, he fell to his knees, moved my panties to one side and swept his tongue along my folds and my clit before pushing it inside me.
“Oh!” I grabbed hold of Connor’s shoulders for support and held on as he moved his tongue in me, in and out, over and over again before licking his way to my clit and sucking it into his mouth. I gasped, pulling on his shoulders and demanding more as he lapped at me eagerly. I wanted to do the same to him. I wanted him in my mouth. I wanted to take him to the back of my throat and suck him until he came. I needed to taste him, needed to remember how it felt to satisfy him like that. I was dimly aware of the noises that were slipping from his mouth—primal, animalistic grunts that made me wetter each time the noises registered.
As he feasted on me, I tried to stop myself from flying apart, but I was already too far gone and an incredible orgasm built in the base of my spine and spread out in a wonderful rush to the rest of my already overheated body. My climax was sudden, intense, all-consuming as wave after wave of euphoric ecstasy crashed over me taking me to dizzying heights.
I was still coming, still shaking from the mind-blowing release when Connor leapt to his feet, spun me around and ripped off my panties, tossing them carelessly across the room. Without preamble, he pushed his cock between my legs then thrust it into me, gripping my hips tightly as he slid home. I cried out from the shock and utter relief of him finally filling me. He moaned, stilling his hips when he had fully seated himself inside me.
“God, you feel amazing,” he whispered in my ear. “So fucking amazing. I’ve missed this.”
“Me too.”
Connor didn’t fuck me gently. He gave it to me exactly how I needed it—hard and deep…frenzied. He seemed to know what I wanted without having to ask, which was good because I’d lost the ability of speech. He shoved into me again and again, holding onto my hips with a bruising strength and pressing me into the wall. I took everything he had to give me, pushing back and using my body to beg him for more. I had needed it so badly I could have cried from the relief.
The wild, unbridled passion that Connor was displaying was enough to set my body alight in the best possible way. I was sure that if I could see his face, little would remain of his human nature. His eyes would be shifted into their wolf form and his teeth would be long, pointy and incredibly sharp. Lethal weapons. Connor was grunting loudly as he drove into me, his rock-hard cock sliding easily into my wet depths. He soon began snapping his hips faster and each thrust felt deeper and harder than before. Each glorious slide in and out of me made me want to scream out his name. I’d never felt so wonderfully possessed.
“Fuck yes, that’s it, Raven, take me,” he instructed, his words punctuated by the wild thrust of his hips. “Take my cock.”
All too soon, his shouts and moans grew louder and the movement of his hips became erratic. He was close, so close.
“Gonna come now,” he groaned hoarsely. “You want it?”
My fingers scrabbled on the wall as I tried to find purchase, to find something to hold onto that would keep me grounded, something that would keep me chained to the present and to Connor. His words were like the sweetest music—utterly spellbinding—and there was only one thing I could say in reply.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I need it, Connor. Come in me. Please.”
Connor threw his head back and howled, his hips jerking forward with wild abandon. Teeth scraped down my neck and I felt a sharp sting as his incisors bit into my skin and drew blood. I shouted out his name as a second, completely unexpected orgasm hit me full force, and, as I came, I could hear Connor’s shouts of ecstasy, which reverberated around the room as he too found his release. He held me tightly to him as his cock pulsed inside me, marking my insides with spurt after spurt of his cum.
When we’d both stopped shaking from our shared rapture, Connor let go of my hips and pulled his cock free. Even after his orgasm, he was still hard, still ready and probably more than willing to fuck me again—to keep on fucking me. When we’d still been together, we used to make love for hours, sometimes right through the night. But things had changed since then and I knew we couldn’t go back. Although maybe there was a way we could move forward. I certainly hoped so.
I turned. I hadn’t had any romantic notions of Connor pulling me close and holding me tight while we slept in one another’s arms, but the sudden detachment in his eyes was a surprise nonetheless, and a devastating blow.
“We’d better get some sleep.” He fastened his pants then crossed the room to his twin bed and sat down on it. Just like he had before my shower, Connor went back to avoiding my gaze. How the hell could he do that after the mind-blowing sex we’d just shared? Didn’t he think we should discuss what had happened? Hadn’t it meant anything to him? It wasn’t like Connor to be so cold. Maybe this was payback for hurting him.
“I’ve set the alarm on my cell,” he said, his voice lacking any real emotion. “We don’t want to be late meeting the witch.”
I shook my head numbly and walked to my bed, lying down on it before turning to face the wall, my back to Connor. “No,” I agreed quietly. “We wouldn’t want that.”
I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to claim me. I was physically exhausted and my mind was weary, but there was too much going on in it for it to shut down completely. Matt, Connor, the council, the demon, Malaki—all of it kept me awake until the sun started to make its appearance through the gap in the heavy cotton drapes. On the other twin bed, just a few feet away from me, Connor slept soundly.
Chapter Nine
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I furrowed my brow as I stared at the seemingly derelict building located in the northwest part of the city. I hadn’t visited the neighbourhood before but a quick glance around was enough to realise why. We were standing in a ghetto—there was no other word for it. The warehouse building was so run-down that I suspected it had sat empty for years. Large plywood boards covered the doors and windows, each decorated with colourful but illicit graffiti tags. The run-down façade was in keeping with the neighbouring properties. It was not the sort of place you would want to spend any length of time in if you didn’t have to.
Connor scratched the back of his head. “It’s got to be the right place. We might have only just met Oliver, but I don’t think I’d be too far off the mark to say he chose this place to rattle us or try to. He wants to get under o
ur skin. A deserted warehouse? Please, it couldn’t be any more cliché.”
I chuckled in spite of myself. Connor and I hadn’t discussed what had happened between us the night before, but there hadn’t been any sort of weird atmosphere either, which had been a relief. Despite the way we’d left things, the tone of our conversations had been light, playful even. It reminded me of how things used to be.
I grinned. “It seems like something he would do. Come on, let’s find a way in.”
Connor straightened his back and began to scent the air. His eyebrows drew together and a low, rumbling growl ripped from his throat. “They’re here.” He turned to the road and scowled.
I followed his line of sight and, sure enough, Oliver was walking down the sidewalk in our direction flanked by two bulky, sour-faced men. Oliver’s gaze raked over my body as he neared and the sound of Connor’s growling increased. I tried to ignore it and plastered a fake smile on my face.
“Oliver,” I greeted when the three men stopped in front of us.
With a decidedly smug grin, the alpha reached for my hand and lifted it to his mouth, placing a lingering kiss on the back. “Raven. It’s wonderful to see you again. You look delightful.”
Connor made a gagging sound.
“Thank you,” I replied, ignoring Connor’s immaturity.
“These are two of my betas,” Oliver introduced, “Rick and Jacob. Hope you don’t mind them being here. Now that I hold the alpha position, I thought it best not to travel alone.”
“Of course not,” I replied, fighting a roll of my eyes. I shook each of the men’s hands in turn and greeted them politely, but they offered little more than a grunt in reply and Connor and Oliver barely acknowledged one another at all.
“Let’s get this over with,” Connor hastened to say. “We’ve got a demon to find and time is running out.”
Oliver inclined his head. “At least your boyfriend and I agree on something. We need to get the book before the demon can use it to raise Lucifer.”
Unlike the night before, it didn’t feel right to correct Oliver on his use of the word boyfriend. Instead, I followed him and his guards around the side of building and Connor brought up the rear. Connor’s earlier joviality had disappeared, replaced by a cold, guarded expression.
One of Oliver’s betas opened the fire escape door and slipped inside. One by one we followed him in. The first thing that hit me when we entered the large space was the smell. The strong, sickly sweet aroma of incense assaulted my senses, tickling the back of my throat. It was burning somewhere farther inside the warehouse—lemongrass and honeysuckle if my nose didn’t deceive me. I’d been present during spell castings before and I knew that those particular herbs were supposed to enhance psychic powers. The smell increased as we walked farther into the large, open space and a low rhythmic chanting reached my ears, becoming louder the farther inside we ventured.
“Looks like the witch is already here,” Connor remarked.
Oliver’s mouth twitched. “What a genius,” he muttered under his breath.
Connor made a lunge for him, but I caught him in time and pulled him back.
“Don’t rise to it,” I hissed.
I threw him a look that I hoped suitably conveyed my annoyance. The last thing we needed was to alienate the local alpha even if he was an asshole. It was pretty obvious that Oliver wanted the book for himself, but until we were certain, we had to stay on his good side. We had enough enemies already and didn’t need another.
“How well do you know the witch?” I asked.
Oliver hesitated before replying, “Fairly well.”
His pause was enough to reveal that he knew her better than he was willing to admit, although why he felt the need to lie about it I wasn’t sure. The witch in question was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the room. She didn’t look up as we approached. She was rocking back and forth and chanting loudly. It sounded like Latin, although I wasn’t an expert on languages. She looked like a redheaded version of Angelina Jolie, slim long limbs and a face that was all lips. She couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five.
Another woman circled her, carrying two smoking pots of incense. She was at least twice the age of the first, but just as attractive. Unlike the first woman, the second watched our every move through light blue eyes that were cool and intelligent. She smiled as we approached, but the expression slipped when her gaze fell upon Oliver. The hint of disdain on his face intimated that the feeling was mutual.
“Silvia,” he greeted dispassionately.
It was only after he’d spoken that the seated witch opened her eyes and turned towards him. Her expression was the complete opposite of Silvia’s. Her smile was bright, substantiating the impression I’d received from Oliver about the nature of their relationship, past or present. Oliver returned her smile warmly. Crossing the room, he bent and took her hand with a surprising tenderness and placed a kiss on the back.
“Cassandra.” His voice was as smooth and sweet as acacia honey. “Always a pleasure.”
Her tingling peal of laughter was practically melodic. “And you are always the charmer. It’s lovely to see you again, Oliver. How have you been?”
Connor stood back and watched their conversation with detached indifference while Oliver’s betas paced the perimeter of the large space talking between themselves. After the pleasantries were over, Silvia placed the incense on a folding table that had been set up against a wall on the far side of the room. She pulled the loose cotton covering off a wooden crate under the table then slid open the lock and reached inside, pulling out a live, squawking chicken.
“Jesus Christ!” Connor exclaimed, staring at the black bundle in Silvia’s arms in utter dismay. “What the hell are you going to do with that?”
“Kill it,” Cassandra replied without any trace of emotion. “What do you think we’re going to do with it?”
“They have to sacrifice the chicken as part of the spell to locate the demon,” I explained. I’d seen it done a couple of times in the past, although the spells I’d watched had been to locate humans—I hadn’t known you could find demons in the same way.
“Right, of course you are,” Connor quipped. “How dumb of me.”
“Are you a witch?” Silvia asked, eyeing me curiously. She placed the chicken on an altar that had been set up near Cassandra. She held it still and closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath.
“She’s a hunter,” Oliver answered in my place. “Likes to kill things. Isn’t that right, Raven?”
“Not really,” I disagreed. “Just doing my job.”
“But you like your job, right?”
I did. But for whatever reason I didn’t want to admit that to Oliver. “How long had the grimoire been in your coven’s possession?” I asked instead.
“For ten generations,” Cassandra replied proudly. “It has been handed down from mother to daughter for over two hundred years.”
“If it’s been in your coven for so long, how did the demon find out about the book?” Connor enquired.
“We suspect he performed some sort of summoning spell to locate it.”
I frowned. “Wasn’t it cloaked?”
Cassandra averted her gaze and mumbled. “I’d been using the book. We can read from it at any time, but if we perform any spells from it we have to remove the cloak or the spells won’t work. I forgot to conceal it again when I was finished with it.”
“Using it?” Connor questioned. “I thought the grimoire was full of black magic.”
“Not all of them are dark magic!” Cassandra replied hotly.
So it was her fault that the demon had the grimoire. That explained why she was so eager to help us locate the demon and get the book back. But she had to know that, when the book had been found, it could not be returned to her coven. It was far too dangerous to remain in the witches’ possession, even if they had managed to keep it safe for over two hundred years. The angels would take possession of the book as soon as we
were able to get it from Barbatos, whatever Cassandra or the rest of her coven might desire.
“We’re ready to begin,” Silvia informed us. “Cassandra, you’ll need the chalice and the knife.”
Cassandra repeated the incantation several times while Silvia handled the unenviable task of killing the chicken. She was quick and proficient so that the bird didn’t suffer. Silvia drained the blood into a wooden chalice with the precision of someone that had performed the task a myriad of times. I stopped paying attention after the first five minutes, but Connor seemed fascinated by what was going on—unlike me, he’d never witnessed anything like it before.
Held aloft, the blood-filled chalice was offered to the Spirit then placed on the makeshift altar along with the bloodstained knife and the chicken’s head. Although Cassandra did most of the work, it was Silvia who was in control. On several occasions Cassandra looked to her for advice, and each time the older witch instructed her on what she had to do next. I wondered what position she held in the coven—it had to be one of importance because she knew exactly what she was doing, but to ask I would have had to interrupt the incantation. The spell was far too important to result in failure. We couldn’t afford the loss of any more precious hours. We only had one shot to locate the demon, so we had to make it count.
I hadn’t realised that Silvia was circling the room with the incense pot again until the thick, heavy smoke caught in my throat and made me cough. The air was filled with it, so much so that it was difficult to see what Cassandra was doing as she knelt in front of the altar, her chanting increasing in both volume and intensity. The rhythmic sound of it filled the warehouse as easily as if Cassandra was using a microphone and speakers. As I looked on, the whites of her eyes began to bleed into the iris until there was no colour left and her face contorted so much I thought I had to be seeing things. I looked to Connor to check if he’d witnessed it too, and if his expression hadn’t been enough to confirm I wasn’t hallucinating, his expletive of “What the fuck?” would have done the trick.
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