Bounty Hunters and Black Magic

by Kristen Banet

  “She’s…looking for ways to defeat Beelzebub if he comes back.”

  Glasses exploded behind him. Valen was lucky he had no customers, as all the bottles exploded next. The mirrors went last before he could reign in the shock and temper that flared in him.

  He had to say, Maxwell had balls for standing in the middle of it and not moving a single inch. Not like he would ever hurt the warlock; he just needed to get the immediate temper out of his system.

  “Are you done?” Maxwell asked softly.

  “Yes.” Valen didn’t move as all the glasses put themselves back together and the liquor went to where it belonged, as if nothing happened. The mirrors refit and looked as if they had never been cracked and shattered.

  In a matter of a minute, he had destroyed his saloon and put it back together.

  “One day, you’ll need to tell me what you are. Not even Addy can do all of that. She just makes a mess, then makes it disappear to deal with later.”

  “I’ll tell you what. If you let Addy live her life, and help me find a way to…curb her need to run after an Archdemon, then I shall tell you what I am.” He figured revealing himself was an even trade for keeping the little spitfire alive.

  “How the hell am I going to do that? Have you tried telling that woman to do anything?” Maxwell threw his arms up in defeat.

  “Have you tried not telling her to do anything?” he retorted, annoyed now. “William never ordered that woman around. Not at all. He encouraged her to do as she pleased, and then was there to catch her when she fell. She learns on her own, makes her own mistakes. You can lead her, offer her other options, but you absolutely don’t order Adalyn Lovett to do a thing. She’s normally smart enough to pick the best one. But you tell her to do a damned thing and she’ll find another option that is exactly what you don’t want.” Valen smacked his hand on the bar, taking a deep breath as he stopped his rant.

  He should have known that Maxwell coming back would be drama. Years of friendship, and the last time any of them saw him was as he rode like an outlaw himself off her property on the day of William’s funeral. A funeral he had already nearly missed.

  Maxwell had the intelligence to look away from him when he looked back up. Damned fool probably thought he was the only one who cared about her and was carrying all that on his shoulders.

  You aren’t. Not in the slightest. Just like I’m not. Or Tobias. William always knew better, too.

  “I’ll take the deal,” he said softly. “I’ll find a way to at least keep her in Redstone and not chasing demons around too far from the town.”

  “Good. When are these outlaws expected?”

  “Anytime tonight or tomorrow.” Maxwell sat down and Valen slid him a drink. It was too early for it, but with this sort of trouble coming, a whiskey in the early morning wasn’t going to kill anyone. “Five of them, unless they have new friends I don’t know about. Anzu’s people.”

  “Ah, Anzu. Been banished for two hundred years and the lackies are still kicking. Which one did she banish?”

  “The youngest.”

  Valen winced. Bad move on her part. They were protective of each other, and she’d gone and banished the weakest link—but probably the favorite of the group, being the baby. “Well, I take it the plan is to let them ride into town and then run them back out?” Simple, easy, effective. With a couple of bounty hunters around, they’ll be aiming to incapacitate so they could capture them.

  “Yeah, but I want the town to be shut down for it. No reason for anyone to get hit in the crossfire if they don’t want to be here for it.”

  “I’ll pass the word.” Valen went back to wiping down his bar.

  “Thank you, but I was planning to.”

  “Why?”

  “You think I want to be in her house right now?” Maxwell raised an eyebrow. “While she’s…”

  Valen started to laugh again. He tried to stop, but every time he looked up and saw Maxwell’s face, he started back up again. “I’m sorry!” He wasn’t, not really, and he was trying to catch his breath. He finally coughed and patted his chest, looking at Maxwell sympathetically. “They aren’t bad, that I can promise.”

  “You know?” Maxwell narrowed his eyes on him.

  Nodding, Valen continued. “They aren’t evil. Maybe neutral, maybe opportunistic, but not evil. And remember, they hurt her, we hurt them.” He had more than enough power to hurt them if it came to it.

  “One is a hellhound half-breed shifter, however the hell that happens. The other is, I don’t know-”

  “A Nephilim,” Valen answered. He knew it the moment that one had walked through the door. He’d known what both of them were when they walked in. There wasn’t a supernatural he couldn’t identify. “Not a Fallen-born one, and that’s the important part.” That was what he didn’t know, who did father the Nephilim, but he didn’t have the stink of a Fallen.

  “I…” Maxwell trailed off, looking worried about the information Valen had just given him.

  “Trust me, if you don’t trust them.”

  “Fine,” Maxwell muttered, sipping his whiskey. “I should go talk to everyone.”

  “You should. I’ll be staying, of course. They can’t touch me here.”

  “Beelzebub could,” Maxwell whispered.

  “He’s one of the very few things that can,” Valen whispered back, remembering the day it all happened. An entire gang of the demons under Beelzebub, protecting him. The crack that had opened in the middle of the city. He couldn’t get close, but he made the opening that William had needed to stop the ritual. Beelzebub, injured and unable to continue, took a potshot at him and it hit. The day ended in victory for the town, but no one had felt very victorious.

  He wanted to ask Maxwell why he hadn’t been there, but the fact that he wasn’t would always scar their friendship, no matter the answer. He didn’t ask because of that. He could relate to why Adalyn, who had lost so much that day, wouldn’t want the warlock back in town, regardless of his attitude.

  He wouldn’t toss Maxwell aside though, like she was desperately trying to do. They had once had a deep friendship. It was shakier, weaker now, but maybe one day they would be close again. He wasn’t tossing him aside because William wouldn’t have wanted that.

  “Go. I’ll be fine helping out from here in the saloon. And I’m not completely helpless out of it.”

  Maxwell finished his whiskey and left, leaving Valen to his thoughts.

  Banishing demons, screwing bounty hunters, pissing off Maxwell to boot, and making the poor sod figure his mess out. “You’d be fucking proud of her, William,” he muttered, smirking at the swinging door where Maxwell had just walked out. He knew his words would make it to William, no matter what afterlife claimed the wolf shifter. “Raising hell and kicking it down all at the same damn time.”

  14

  Adalyn

  Adalyn was with Remy, preparing lunch, when Maxwell walked back in the house. He didn’t say anything to her or about the fact that Remy was pressed up against her back for no reason other than to be there.

  Things had been heated all morning, but nothing happened. Touching, kissing, teasing, and taunting. It was midday, and she was hornier than she knew what to do with—and the hellhound shifter knew it, continuing to mess with her. They definitely still wanted her and she wanted them, unrepentantly enjoying the attention.

  “How’s the town?” Easton asked. “Are they okay with a couple of days off?”

  “The wereanimals and shifters are going to send some of the best shooters to take up positions throughout the town, but yeah, everyone is shutting down. Valen is going to provide food, drink, and a place for the wounded, if necessary. We have a doctor in residence, but if too many people are hurt, he’ll need the space at the saloon.”

  “My thanks to them. They know they won’t get the bounty?”

  Even she could hear the humor in Easton’s question.

  “They don’t care about bounties or anything like that. They don’
t want demons rolling into this town to hurt one of our own. And Adalyn, yes, I told all of them that this is on you.”

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “For that, I’m not feeding you.”

  “That’s fine. I just ate with Doctor Gordon.”

  She rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid they wouldn’t come back down. He knew what he’d done and had accounted for it.

  Remy chuckled in her ear, his hot breath immediately distracting her from the aggravating marshal. She wiggled her hips a little, and he grabbed them tightly, a low growl vibrating his chest. “I’ll bend you over right here, little witch. Try me.”

  She picked up a plate of finished sandwiches and held them out. “Take these to the table for me? I need to finish the salad.” She wasn’t going to test him anymore. The way he said it made her think it wasn’t a lie.

  “You don’t need me to take those to the table.”

  No, I don’t, but I do want some space before I want you to bend me over right here, Maxwell be damned.

  “Please?” She made it sound extra sweet, fakely sweet. He grinned at her, knowing her game. He took the plate and placed it on the table, sitting down with Easton and Maxwell. She wondered if he made any attempt to cover up his erection.

  She enjoyed this. The sexy easiness. Without an attachment, it was easy to indulge in the bounty hunters and then let them go when it was all over. It was exactly what she needed. Maybe, maybe in a few years she would date again, but for now, this was perfect.

  She finished the salad and sat down as well. Easton had been tasked with setting the table. Well, she hadn’t even asked him, he just did. He was the model house guest, honestly.

  “When are we going to set up in town?” she inquired politely of Maxwell.

  “Right after sunset. Remy?”

  “Sounds good. I’m thinking it’ll be a night hit, based on the speed they’re moving.”

  “Better for us than them. What are they thinking?” The marshal frowned, then he snapped his fingers. “They have no idea we know they’re coming. Of course.”

  “Seems like.”

  “I’d like Adalyn in the top of the saloon. They won’t get past Valen.” Maxwell glanced at her. “If you’re agreeable?”

  “I can shoot from his second floor.” She saw no reason to disagree with that. It kept her safe, which would appease the marshal, and wouldn’t treat her like an invalid, which appeased her. “Look at you, Maxwell. Thinking about me!” She playfully slapped his arm, smiling.

  “Gods save us all,” he muttered, giving her a droll stare. “Be careful, please. Last thing anyone here wants, I think, is you getting taken or hurt.”

  “I’ll stay right where I say I’ll be. Second floor, in Valen’s office overlooking the street. As long as he keeps the saloon secure, I’ll make sure I don’t get shot.” She was still smiling. Thank the gods he wasn’t trying to keep her out of it. This was her mess, and she would be part of the cleanup. She wouldn’t just pass responsibility off onto the men. She didn’t have it in her.

  “Let’s eat, and then we can talk about this more. We have the day. Maybe even settle in for some naps, leaving one or two of us on watch. We’ll need the rest if it’s going to be a long night.” Easton dished food out. “Thank you, again, for letting us stay here. It’s very much appreciated.”

  “I bet,” she murmured. He had such manners. Then he winked slyly, in a way that Maxwell wouldn’t see, and she felt a warm heat bloom over her face. The marshal could definitely see that.

  They ate quietly and when they were done, Easton and Remy went to lay down first, leaving her with him. They chose those two since Remy would need to be up as the demons drew closer. Easton went because he claimed he just wanted to close his eyes for a moment, so he could focus more when night came.

  “I won’t say I’m sorry,” she said finally, killing the awkward silence that fell over them.

  “I don’t expect you to. I guess I keep forgetting that you’ve grieved and it’s time for you to move on. Valen and I talked about it. And I wonder if it would bother me less if it wasn’t those two…”

  “I can understand that. A couple of bounty hunters could easily ruin my reputation. If I had one I cared about.” She shrugged. “Any of the men in town would be a better option than them to you.”

  “They respect you, the men in town. I’m not saying those two don’t, but…any of the men would know about you and William, and understand. They would treat you like a woman who…”

  “That’s exactly why I like the bounty hunters,” she explained. “They don’t.”

  He nodded to her slowly. “Once a witch, always a witch,” he whispered, looking away.

  “Yes.” She wasn’t anything except what she was. She certainly wouldn’t apologize to a warlock about it. He knew why.

  There was a reason witches and warlocks, while both the same thing, were classified differently, and it wasn’t just sex, but a cultural difference as well. They were both in the Society of Magic, certainly, but most of the time, they didn’t get along. Warlocks were impressive, domineering men, nine times out of ten. Boastful of their own power, believing they knew better. Maxwell had only a mild case of it.

  Witches? Women that had the power to do it on their own? That made them outcasts, always, where warlocks weren’t. A warlock was praised by society for his power; a witch was condemned as a woman who didn’t know her place. Add in that powerful women learned the hard way to take what they wanted or never get what they needed, and it spelled trouble. Always. Adalyn was even a step further than that. A wild magic witch was deemed completely uncontrollable by society, her magic a sign of her unforgiving will and an inability to control herself. The few born were normally locked away in asylums, considered too dangerous.

  Except her. She’d always had too much of an indomitable will. She lost control on occasion, but never so severely that it caused trouble. Except once, and it was then that she packed her bags and left for the West.

  “And you are a warlock. The fact that we were ever good friends is a testament to…well, William.” She snorted, a small smile breaking out on her face.

  “I’m trying,” he promised. “Should I lie and say that I don’t think you should get remarried or try to remain respectable for any future husband? No, Addy, I won’t lie to you. But the other side of my brain, the magic side? That’s telling me that you are what you are and it’s magnificent. Passionate, a little crazy, and formidable. Society tells me it’s wrong, but I can’t help being enchanted by it. So I’m trying.”

  “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of her water. Was he really so conflicted? She could see it. Maxwell had always been one of those broody, conflicted types of men. Once, she found out he had to arrest a murderer, but the person killed the other for a justifiable reason. The man had assaulted his wife, his ‘right.’ The brother didn’t think his sister deserved such treatment and decided that making her a widow was safer than being married to a monster.

  But sadly, murder was murder. Maxwell hadn’t wanted to arrest him, stuck between the law and doing what was truly right. He’d come to Redstone, knowing the siblings would pass through, torn up over it.

  Conveniently, she and Tobias snuck the siblings underneath the marshal’s nose, while William got him drunk as an alibi, and they were never found after that. They lived a nice life on the West Coast, where no one knew what happened. They never told Maxwell where the siblings ended up, for his own peace of mind.

  “Go rest. I’ll hold the first watch, no problem.”

  And that was the end of the conversation. She was yanked out of memory lane, remembering that Maxwell had always been like this. “Thank you,” she said calmly. She stood up, maintaining her composure, and walked up to her room, keeping her mouth shut.

  Inside, she was raging.

  That’s it? That’s all he really has to say? He’s trying? I can’t believe that man sometimes. How hard is it to just keep talking?

  She knew it was t
oo much to ask of a man. While she wanted him to keep talking, she knew what she got was probably all she would ever get. And it had been a lot.

  She stepped into her room, not paying attention. She stripped down and crawled into her bed without even really looking at it.

  And ran into a body. A very naked one.

  “Well, hello,” Easton murmured. “Time to get up already?”

  “No. The marshal is letting me get a first sleep as well. No reason for more than one person to be on watch.” She looked past him and saw a shirtless Remy sprawled out, his lower half covered by her blankets. “I have two other bedrooms.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be in them,” the Nephilim said, pulling her down into a deep kiss.

  She had no complaints about it. They were more than welcome to her bed for as long as they were in town. Just as long as they knew they had to leave it when she wanted them to. At that moment, she didn’t want them to.

  “I might need some help getting to sleep,” she whispered.

  “I’m more than willing,” he crooned, yanking her over him. Straddling him, she could feel he was already hard underneath her. Holding her hips, he ground upwards, pulling a moan from her.

  She reached down to grab his cock, but he stopped her. She felt pinned by the hooded gaze he gave her. Suddenly she was on her back and he was between her thighs, slowly grinding against her.

  “Did you spell the walls?” he asked softly.

  “No.” She cursed herself for it.

  “That’s fine. We can’t be too loud anyway or we’ll wake Remy. Can’t have you too sore if we’re fighting outlaws and demons tonight.” He gave her a sinful smile.

  Gods, as his hands slid between her legs, she knew what he would find. She was already wet just from the idea of having one or both of them again. He slid a finger through her folds, grinning. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked her off them, groaning in delight. She felt naughty from the entire action, downright bad for it, but only in the best way.

  “Damn me,” he growled, plunging into her harder than she expected. Her back arched at the rush of pleasure that ran through her as he started them off at a pace that she loved. Too fast and too hard.