by J. M. Davies
Aware she still watched the vampire, she pulled her gaze away and found Jake studying her, deep in thought.
“Preoccupied much?” he said.
“Look—I have to eat and so do you. That’s all my offer is: dinner and a chance to apologize.”
Jake shifted his stance and glanced over her shoulder. She didn’t need to look where his line of vision went, and she sighed. This was crazy. Taking two steps, she started to walk away, unwilling to keep trying to ease the situation between them. But Jake grabbed her arm, and she swung around to face him.
“Sparkles, like I said, we’re cool. What happened at dinner is already forgiven. To be honest, there’s too much at stake right now to focus on any sort of relationship, but you’re right, I need to eat. Are you any good at cooking?” His wide smile surfaced and she smiled back, glad they seemed to be back at being friends at least. Maybe that’s all they would ever be.
She nodded. “You betcha, and if anything doesn’t quite work out as it should, I can always wiggle my nose and hey presto, it will taste delicious.”
Jake laughed and she did too. The innocent laughter drew the attention of the rest of the people in the room.
“What will taste delicious?” The deep voice at her shoulder made her blood run cold. Or was it hot? She didn’t dare look as she didn’t need to. She knew Roman stood behind her, and his hand splayed in a possessive way on her right hip, which burned through the material. No one else would have the audacity to be so intimate.
Jake didn’t move but he spoke calmly. “We’re having dinner tonight. I hear Isabella is a great cook.”
The prince drew her closer to his side and although she didn’t meet his gaze, she knew he glanced at her profile.
“You have me there. I have yet to sample my fiancée’s cooking, but if it is anything like her other skills—you’re in for a treat. Of course, I would love to join you both, but tonight Marcus and I will be discussing our little venture into the Veil of Shadows. I will swing by before I leave as I know you will miss me when I’m gone.”
Isabella’s cheeks flamed at his comments. Damn the beast, he was the only man who flicked her crazy switch. His words were deliberately provocative, but his last words caught her, and she spun around.
“I’m confused—I’m going to the Veil too, so why will I miss you?”
The prince of vampires ran his gaze over her face, taking his time to examine every feature, and she blinked under his intense scrutiny. He swept several strands of her hair behind her ear before stroking her cheek. “You look tired, love,” Roman said.
The act of intimacy drove her crazy, especially in front of Jake, and she wanted to throttle him.
“Please don’t do that. Now, explain what the hell you mean?”
Roman did as requested and backed away. He glared at Jake, a shorter man but equal in tight muscles, although Roman had the whole immortal thing going for him.
“It’s simple, my love. You’re not coming, and Marcus agreed. It’s too risky—”
Before Roman could finish, she pushed him away and strode off, pissed.
“She’s sexy when she’s mad and full of passion, that one,” Roman said.
“Yes, she is,” Jake responded.
Isabella caught what the two said but continued to head for Drayton. But a tug on her arm made her spin around.
“Don’t make a scene, Isabella—not now. It’s what Roman wants. I see how he needles you, but must you always rise to the fucking bait? I thought you were stronger. Anyway, Marcus has too much on his plate right now. He’s under a lot of pressure, and acting like a toddler having a tantrum isn’t going to get you anywhere. When the commander makes a decision, it’s final. If you’re not part of the team on this mission, there’s a damn good reason for it. You going off all bat-shit crazy will confirm he made the right decision. It won’t make him change his mind.”
Isabella stared down at his hand, which remained holding her arm and he let go, and she listened to his words, accepting the truth of them. Reining in her fury, she scanned the room to locate Roman’s position.
“He’s always dictating to me, and I cannot think straight when he’s around.”
She didn’t mean to sound so emotional, but a part of her was unraveling.
Jake nodded and pressed his hand on her shoulder. “Look, we’re part of a team, and I’ll help you all I can, but you need to be honest with me, and that arrogant prick over there. If you don’t want to marry him, end this façade now. Make the decision.”
“Jake, it’s not as simple as that.”
“Yes, Sparkles, it is. I will see you at five for dinner.”
Standing there as Jake walked away, she felt alone and on edge. She put one foot in front of the other, intending to head for the restrooms, but Raine and Zephra appeared right in front of her, extending their arms wide, and she ran to them.
“Blessed be, sister.”
“Blessed be,” she responded and kissed each sister on the cheek before stepping back as both witches examined her.
Raine frowned and shook her head. “Isabella—when will you learn—breaking the rules of our coven has consequences? You’ve been dabbling with dark magic, and you know what happens when you do that—you get sick. This isn’t good enough, Isabella. With all that’s going on right now, this makes you vulnerable. Your aura is all over the place.” Raine squawked, but reached inside her cloak and withdrew a small vial of liquid and handed it to Isabella. “Drink this. It will help you for the next several hours, but it’s not a cure. You’re going to crash and burn fast.” Her sister touched her hand to Isabella’s forehead and pulled it away. “Drink it now,” she insisted.
Isabella huffed and frowned. She knew there would be no hiding her actions from her sisters. They always knew what she had been up to, and she pouted at each of them, always feeling awkward and foolish in their company. She knew the potion would taste awful, but accepted the glass beaker. Flashing them both a wicked grin, she downed the cool liquid. It didn’t taste too bad, kind of sweet, and when she drained the glass, she studied Raine. “What is that?”
“Just a fruit smoothie, Isabella. Of course, I added a few extra ingredients to boost your immune system, such as ginger, cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and some honey. Plus, a small spell to delay the effects of your impending mad delirium. It’s not long acting, but the effects are instant.”
“Hang on, what do you mean mad delirium?”
“You will find out soon enough, and I suggest you make sure you’re alone when you do, with a bowl at hand.”
Zephra gathered Isabella’s hair to the side, and attached a black leather choker with an amethyst stone that dropped from the center. She couldn’t tell whether her sisters were teasing her or not as they both looked equal parts annoyed and concerned. The amethyst would strengthen the spell and keep her safe for as long as the spell lasted, which meant they must be serious.
“Thank you,” she said as the cold vanished and the weight that pressed down on her eased. “Wow, you’re right. I already feel better. My head is clearer. In fact, I could run a marathon.” Her heart beat fast inside her chest and her skin prickled with heat. Isabella clenched her hands and rubbed her fingers. “Are you both going to the Veil of Shadows?”
“No, Zephra is going. I will remain with Steel. I can reach him in the dream state, but someone is there, corrupting him. I’ve set up a salt circle to ward off evil and I light candles every day to help the healing process, but the force that’s preventing him from waking up is more powerful than I am. I cannot convince him to leave.”
Isabella saw worry etched on her perfect sister’s face and she longed to ask the question that others wondered too. What was the relationship between Raine and Steel? Instead, she stated what she knew to be true.
“You love this mortal, don’t you, Raine?”
Raine didn’t flinch and she knew that her sisters often talked about things that didn’t include her. She spent so much time away from the coven
, making her feel an outsider.
“Marcus is heading this way and the meeting is about to start. I only came to give you the medicine. I have to get back to Steel. Remember, the spell will only last until this evening and then you will need to sleep. Isabella, you need to stop taking such unnecessary risks. Your recklessness will be the death of you.” She kissed her on both cheeks and vanished without answering the question, leaving Zephra standing next to her, holding her hand out to greet Marcus. At times, life confused her. If Isabella was right, at some time or other, Raine and Steel had been a couple, which smacked of hypocrisy after their objection toward Jake.
The meeting dragged on for hours, and Marcus explained to the team the reason for only taking a small number to the Veil of Shadows. He wanted to ensure the command center remained secure. Isabella understood his methods and decided not to rock the boat. It weighed on her mind the fact that in a couple of hours, she would nose-dive, needing to recover from whatever bug swam in her veins and heightened her vulnerable position. As she thought about bugs, Roman’s intense gaze sought hers across the table. She sat as far away as possible and refused to seek him out at all through the meeting.
“If we are to leave at dawn on Friday, when is your man Henry going to be introduced to the Padre? Is that all arranged?” Roman asked, waiting for Marcus to reply.
“Not right now. I expect we will remain in the Veil for several days. When I return, I will assess what progress Henry has made with his training. Maybe the following week, but—” He observed Henry, who sat, listening. “It depends on Henry.”
“I am training every day with Bear and Shadow and some of the other guys too. I am also practicing at the range as well as being interrogated on my cover. I intend to be ready and up to speed when you return, sir.”
“Good. All we need are the forged documents from the Watchmen and we will set up an introduction. The Padre is in London presently and returns at the end of next week. He has several meetings in New York, before flying off for a vacation. I thought that could be the time to insert Henry. Why?”
Roman sat up and swiveled his chair so Isabella could only see his profile. “The sooner we can get on with it, the better. Why don’t we simply kill the Padre? He’s only mortal, after all.”
Marcus tapped his finger on the table, and stared at the vampire. “We don’t know for certain what the Padre is. To strike him openly is to let them know we have him in our sights. We need more intel about him and this woman Morrigan. Henry has a huge task ahead of him.”
As soon as the meeting ended, Isabella all but jumped up, kissed her sister on both cheeks and fled the room to escape the vamp. Avoiding him was the best tactic for now. She quickly made her way to her room to shower and change, and twenty minutes later, stood in the bright kitchen built with state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances. Milly, the housekeeper, usually cooked dinner for guests or anyone who stayed at the mansion. At the moment, the only guests were her and Marcus. The team was stationed in small houses dotted throughout the compound. She knew Jake shared with Bear and some of the others, but she hadn’t visited his house.
Her stomach rumbled as she diced the onion, and she swiped her cheek as a stray tear fell. A hand covered hers, and she jumped in fright.
“Here, let me sort out the onion. You tend to whatever else needs to be fixed,” Jake said.
Isabella smiled and surrendered the knife to wrap her arms around his neck. She tugged him close. It seemed a natural response, perhaps not her usual one, but he didn’t resist as she pressed her lips over his and kissed him leisurely. A restlessness coursed through her and she pulled on the front of his shirt. When his mouth opened, she thrust her tongue inside, savoring the fresh scent of Jake, who pressed his hands down low over her bottom and drew her against his firm body. Feeling the hard length of his manhood should have given her encouragement, but instead, like a splash of cold water, she stopped, letting her hands slip away from him. Isabella stepped away and turned her back on him, shocked at what buzzed inside her brain.
“I’m sorry, Jake. Er, I don’t feel well.” A spiraling dizziness swept over her and her vision clouded. One minute, she stood upright; the next, the colors in the room blurred and she lay in someone’s arm, moving fast. The only one person capable of such speed carried her away, and as the heaviness pulled her under, for once as her eyes closed, she was glad.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Roman gently lay the sleeping Isabella down on her bed, intending to slip away and leave her. He knew he should call Zephra to attend to her, but damn, the fiery little witch had attached herself to him in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom. She wouldn’t believe him if he told her, which he wouldn’t. Anyway, he could no more step outside this room knowing she lay sick, than he could exist without blood. Seeing Isabella this morning, he sensed a weakness and fatigue surrounding her that caused him concern, which Drayton picked up on too. After the meeting, he caught hold of Zephra, who confirmed his fears. This skinny woman would be his downfall. Not only did she parade herself around as a single woman, refusing to wear his ring, but she also made plans for dinner with the mortal while ill.
Roman held nothing against humans per se, but most of the time they were infuriating and dull. It would never work between a witch, especially one as exquisite as Isabella, and a human. Didn’t she realize that? Isabella never took care of herself, not in the way he would insist upon when she became his. He wanted an equal partner, one as strong as him. Not one he needed to worry constantly over. The witch checked a lot of those boxes in seeking a mate, but also many that didn’t. Dressing as she did, instead of hiding her curves, served to accentuate them. Even though he suspected she worked hard on her tough exterior, underneath, she was all soft, and sexy as hell. He liked that.
Roman brushed her long, wavy hair away from her face and she moaned. Stroking her feverish forehead again, he considered calling Zephra, but he knew she would be busy with Marcus. Taking measures into his own hands, he unbuttoned the witch’s black shirt and eased her out of her clothes to make her comfortable and to cool her down. She would be angry at his actions, but he didn’t have a choice.
She murmured again. “Roman.”
Stunned at his name on her lips, he didn’t stop undressing her, but continued to roll, twist, and lift Isabella, until he removed almost all her clothes. She lay exposed to him, in her simple white cotton bra and barely there panties. How utterly Isabella when it came to clothes; she liked plain. Nothing fancy, even though her curves cried out for lace and silk. Studying her long, lean body almost naked for the first time, he trailed his finger over the curves and planes of her delicate frame. Roman wondered how many lovers his witch had taken. The thought of her with anyone pushed him beyond reason and he picked up a handful of her hair, smelling the fresh apple scent.
His erection pressed painfully in his pants. Studying the perfection spread before him like a feast, a wave of selfish desire to claim her rose high and he growled at himself. Standing back, he watched as she rolled on her side and continued to moan in her sleep. Mesmerized by the curve of her hip and expanse of creamy skin, he found it hard to walk away. He folded her clothes, leaving them on the dresser, and strode into the adjoining bathroom to collect a wet facecloth.
Once back in her room, he strolled to the edge of the bed and sat down. As his weight pressed into the mattress, she rolled to face him with her eyes still closed. He dabbed the white cloth over her forehead and she whimpered.
“So good.”
He wondered whether the witch ever considered the cost to him for the bond created between them. Dipping his head, he couldn’t tear his eyes off the pale beauty with her red hair spread out around her like the sunset. Did she realize the picture she created, even sick? He brought the cloth down over her cheeks, her neck—which she arched—and over her rounded breasts. Touching her like this evoked reverence but also torture deep inside him. The wet sheen over her skin told him she needed to be cooled. Roman continued t
o run the cloth over her curves and hollows. When it dried, he returned to drench it in cold water. He continued this practice for hours, helping to give her sips of water to keep her hydrated.
If Isabella were immortal, none of this would be an issue. He could turn her. He knew her limitations, and no one would be more capable of caring for her through the transition than him. That would be an end of one problem, but opening a viper’s box of others. Besides, he was leaving and wouldn’t be here to assist her. For a new vampire, the change could be terrifying and the surge of power addictive and deadly.
Anyway, it was a non-issue. Isabella would hate him even more than she already did.
Roman stretched his arms and removed his jacket, hanging it inside her closet that contained an array of dark pants, shirts, and a few jackets. A momentary image of her dressed in a blood-red sleeveless dress that caressed her every curve dried his mouth. He stared back at her silky skin and longed to kiss every inch. The desperate need to possess her caused huge arguments with his second-in-command, Lucius, who stood by his side for centuries. He didn’t understand why he hadn’t bedded the witch already. Why? Because throughout all the centuries he existed as a vampire, not once did he respond to a female the way he did with the minx Isabella.
Perhaps Drayton had been right about being a jealous fool.
Watching her chest rise and fall, his eyes naturally wandered to her sweet pulse and he wiped his dry mouth. At first, the witch intrigued him. He spotted her several times, crossing over the borders between their lands. At the time, he followed her for security reasons, but after stalking her, he realized her interest didn’t lie with vampires. He discovered this full-blooded witch was a hunter of monsters and demons. Watching her take her first kill aroused him like nothing before. She took exquisite pride in the attack, ensuring her victim didn’t suffer. He admired a skillful kill.