Playing With Monsters

by Amelia Hutchins

  “Someone tried to kill you tonight, Lena. Until I or the coven decides its safe, you will remain with me,” he ordered. “I’ll send someone back for your things later, right now you need to have your wounds cleaned, and your sister needs sleep to recover.”

  I couldn’t argue with him, because someone had done exactly what he’d said they had. I needed to rest, regroup, and regain my wits. Someone had gone out of their way to hurt my family. I felt safe enough with Lucian that I was willing to forego coven protocol and allow him to take the lead. Besides, he’d told his man to call them and let them know what had happened.

  I was rushed through his house, unable to take in any detail other than it was extravagantly decorated, with lush furniture that put our old shabby ones to shame. I liked the older furnishings. The antiques long forgotten, that told of another world.

  His bedroom was luxurious, with deep masculine shades of blacks and blues, which reminded me of his eyes. The bed was a solid oak four-poster bed that was larger than most, and had cream silk draped around the posts. The duvet was black, with glittering crystals edging the trim, creating the illusion of shimmering diamonds. A fire burned in the fireplace next to the bed, which made me shiver with the heat I already felt. I turned to look at him, only to find him watching me as I took in his bedroom.

  “Why am I in your bedroom?” I asked softly, my voice scratchy from the fire still.

  “How do you know it’s mine?” he asked, his eyes lowering to my burned nightie, which was also filthy.

  I swallowed and took a step closer to him, wincing as pain filled every nerve in my body. “It’s dark, like you.”

  “How do you know I’m dark, Lena?” he whispered as his hand slowly lifted and he pushed a few strands of hair away from my face.

  “Is there another room I can sleep in?” I asked, dodging his question.

  “You need to soak in a tub. You can’t wait for your mother and sister to finish using the others, so you’ll use mine. Bane is fetching the healing salts, as well as the petals from the flowers we use to heal burns. You can sit and relax while I prepare it.”

  I swallowed again. Lucian was going to run me a bath, in his bedroom. The man who’d almost had his way with me in the kitchen of the cottage, had infiltrated my dreams and seduced and tormented my body until it had been on the edge of insanity, was now taking care of me.

  I wasn’t sure how I should feel about it, but I was grateful that we weren’t dead. He’d saved me twice tonight, as well as my family. Something was happening to the coven, someone was targeting us and I planned to figure out why. First, I had to heal. The adrenaline was fading, and with it, came the unbelievable pain from the burns I’d incurred while trying to be heroic, and utterly failing.

  I sat in a soft wing-backed chair while Lucian and Bane moved around the room, until Lucian stopped in front of me and offered me his hand. I accepted and winced as pain sliced through me. It was horrible; the simplest movements made me stagger.

  I walked into the bathroom with Lucian, who closed the door, isolating us both inside the room. I paused, and turned to look at him as tears trailed down my cheeks, burning everything they touched as they rolled off my face. It wasn’t because I was crying; it was because everything burned, including my eyes.

  “I can do this myself,” I mumbled.

  “You’d pass out before you got into the water; burns hurt more than any cut could. Don’t worry, Lena, I have no plans of seducing you while you recover. I’m a very patient man.” He produced a pair of scissors from one of the many drawers in the wall-to-wall vanity.

  “I can do it,” I insisted. I didn’t want to be naked with him, but I also knew I didn’t have the strength to remove my clothing. Talking hurt, everything hurt. Who knew just how many muscles it took to speak, and how many of them were connected to tissues that actually moved when you spoke?

  “I’ll leave your panties on, but you’re getting into the water,” he urged.

  “Fine,” I caved and did my best to turn around so that he could cut from the back instead of the front. I felt him carefully moving my hair, and placing it gently over my shoulder, and then the sound of him cutting through the fabric filled the room. I hadn’t seen my burns, but as I looked down, I could see the angry marks on my legs, already swelling from where they’d been burned. Black fabric was stuck in some of the damaged tissue, and I closed my eyes and silently prayed that the coven would be here soon, so that they could heal my family and me.

  “Hold still, Magdalena,” he whispered when the blade of the scissors touched my back, and I winced. I could feel his fingers as he tried to place a barrier between my flesh and the cold steel. His touch sent my already blazing flesh to flames. My nipples hardened as the cool air touched them as he freed them from my top.

  I had planned to use my hair to shield them, but he carefully pulled it up and put it into a high ponytail. His ability to do this with such ease made me question just how many women he’d been around. He hadn’t tugged at it, or missed a single hair. When he was done, he moved around me, and, without taking his eyes from mine, helped me into the warm water that was filled with fragrant petals. His eyes never strayed to my exposed breasts, which I was too sore to cover.

  The moment I was in the water, I moaned and closed my eyes. Heaven had to feel like this. The pain numbed, the salt from the leyline eased the burns. Salt from the lines was a type of salve for witches. They were filled with healing properties. It burned now, but it would ease almost any wound if applied correctly as fast as possible after the incident. The scent of the flowers was intoxicating, and I inhaled, ridding my senses of the toxic, sulfurous smell of the fire. I was so relieved that I hadn’t even heard him move, or return with a sponge.

  “This is going to sting,” he warned. “It’s got to be done. If we can get the salt deep enough, we can stop any scarring.”

  “I’m not worried about scars,” I whispered as my lashes fluttered open. “Scars tell a story. Everyone has them, even if they’re not visible. I have enough inside that it won’t matter what’s on the outside.”

  “I’m washing you, so either way, princess, it’s going to happen.”

  “I’m not a princess,” I whispered as I turned to look at him.

  He chuckled, and shook his head as he reached into the water and pulled out my arm, which pushed against my breasts. I sat up further, watching his eyes as they slipped to my exposed flesh, and then rose to meet mine with smoldering heat that would have made the fire tonight jealous.

  “Here,” I said, as I moved my arm to the edge of the bath so he could tend to it. “I’m not burned everywhere,” I whispered as I silently thought a prayer that I hadn’t been burned in other places.

  “You don’t like to be touched, do you?” he observed.

  “It’s not that I don’t like to be touched,” I admitted.

  “You don’t like to be touched by me?” he mumbled as his eyes assessed the damage to my arm before he pulled me up until I was standing in front of him.

  “What the hell?” I asked as I stood before him, almost fully naked.

  “I almost fucked you tonight, so don’t pretend you don’t want me. I’m not a little boy, and you’re most definitely not a little girl. You’re not a damsel in distress, but you are burned and you need my help. In order to do that, I need to touch you. Stop acting like a child, and take what I’m offering you. I don’t normally help people, and I certainly don’t make a habit out of it.”

  “Then why do you keep helping me?” I asked, lifting my eyes to hold his. “Why are you here helping the coven? Based on what I’ve seen, you’ve been helping us a lot.”

  He sighed and shook his head as he removed his shirt and kicked off his shoes. I watched in shock as he continued to strip until nothing was left, and by nothing, I mean Adonis had just stripped down naked in front of me
and exposed the massive package I’d already known he was carrying, and unlike him, I didn’t keep my eyes to myself. Who the hell could? He was huge, and it wasn’t even hard yet. I wanted to instinctively cover my entrance; because there was no way in hell that thing was fitting. I had a healthy sense of self-preservation, and right now, it was screaming for me to slowly back away from the monster between his legs.

  His body was ripped; muscles were perfectly sculpted in lines that I wanted to trace with my fingers. His body was sleek, each line carved to draw the eye and hold it. His runes were slightly duller than they’d been before, but even I could see the ancient symbols for what they were. Mortals couldn’t normally see a witch or warlock’s glyphs, but I was sure my tongue could. It itched to trace the patterns as well as the piercing in his nipple, and shamelessly so.

  His own eyes returned my rudeness, and he lowered them until, just above my pubic bone, he found the small pentagram with Latin words in tiny script placed around it. I wondered if he knew what it was; a devil’s trap. It was a symbol to ward off demons who would try to take possession of a witch’s body. Of course, we hadn’t had any demons around the coven in decades, but I’d felt the need to get it. Along with that, I had small outlines of birds that flew in a pattern up my ribcage; it had been my gift to myself when I’d gotten my first paycheck. A symbol of the freedom I’d taken for myself. It also was in memory of Joshua, and said in elegant calligraphy, ‘Your wings were ready but my heart was not.’

  Joshua had once read me a poem. It was about a bird sitting on a tree, never afraid of the branches breaking, because her trust was not in the tree that had grown the branch, but in her own wings that would carry her if she needed it. She had been born with the means to save herself, and always would. That poem had remained in my heart and soul, especially after he’d left us.

  “You have a devil’s trap,” he said as his hand moved to the smooth skin and traced the pattern. “Perfectly placed,” he finished hoarsely as his eyes slipped further, to the sheer material that was now hiding nothing.

  He started with the sponge on my belly and worked around my breasts, ignoring the fact that both of our mingled breathing was growing slower and ragged from what he was doing. My nipples hardened, and it hurt, yet I ignored it, turning my head as his hands slid over one with the sponge, and then the other. He quickly finished the bath, and brought me a large T-shirt.

  I waited for him to turn around as I dried off, pulled off my panties that were soaked, and slipped on the shirt which was so long that it went to my knees.

  “Where am I sleeping?” I asked, needing to find a bed and hide beneath the covers.

  “With me,” he replied, giving me a sardonic smile.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucian showed me to a room that just happened to adjoin his and returned to his own room to change. It wasn’t as masculine as his room. It was decorated in soft, delicate shades of lilac and cream. The bed was bigger than my own, but then again, the cottage didn’t have enough room to fit anything larger than a full-size mattress.

  Lightning cracked outside the window, followed by a loud clap of thunder. My mind replayed what had happened during the bath, and the realization set in that I was with him, in his house, wearing nothing more than his White Zombie band T-shirt, and it percolated a bit. My brain was also trying to wrap itself around the idea that we’d almost died tonight, twice.

  I didn’t know what to feel, or who to blame, but in my mind, I was silently screaming. My body still trembled, the adrenaline slowly escaping as the reality of the events sank in. These kinds of things just didn’t happen to us. We maintained our world, kept it hidden from outsiders so that these types of things didn’t occur.

  I felt him before I saw him, that electrical buzz that slid over me, electrocuting my senses. The masculine scent he gave off was just an added bonus. I stood in place, rooted to the spot for fear of being in the same room with him and a bed. Dangerous combination, considering we almost hadn’t even needed a bed earlier tonight.

  I turned and looked at him; his chest was still bare. He’d slipped on a pair of sweatpants, which I was sure were for my benefit. Other than that thin trail of fuzz that led into the light gray sweatpants, he had very little body hair. His form was rock hard, with sleek muscles that looked as if they had been sculpted by the finest artist.

  I licked my lips as I took in the bulge, painfully aware that he was hard, and I was more interested than I should be. He could wipe tonight away from my mind, quiet the questions that had been playing on an internal loop. So many questions, yet no answers were forthcoming.

  He passed me, and I remained where I was, my eyes still locked where his secret package had been. What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t this girl, a girl obsessed over a man just because he was hot as hell; I liked substance. I went after Todd because he had a great mind. He wasn’t the hottest guy in the coven, but he was smart. Really smart. He’d had a soft side to him, one that told me he’d be a good father someday, and I’d wanted him.

  “There’s no bathroom in this room, just the master suite in my room. You’ll have to walk through mine to reach it. There is another bathroom down the hall from these rooms. Your sister and mother have been healed, and have already turned in for the night. If you need anything, just ask,” he said as he pulled down the covers and indicated with a slight nod of his head for me to get under them.

  I moved slowly, my burns still aching as I moved towards the bed. I was almost to it when a knock sounded on the door, and Lucian quietly opened it and I whispered thanks to whoever had been on the other side.

  “Lay down,” he said as he shut the door, locked it, and moved back to the bed. “This is a cream we use to speed the healing of the burns.” I tried to catch the fragrance of what might have been used in the cream, seeing that my mother had sold lots of different creams and salves for healing. Well, until my father stole the recipes and Lucian bought her shop, that is.

  I sat on the bed carefully and extended my hand, but he ignored it. “Pull the shirt up so I can tend to the burns on your thighs,” he ordered.

  “I can do it,” I assured him, my eyes taking in the angry red welts where the heat had damaged the flesh. I’d barely acknowledged the burns until I’d been in his huge, elegant tub. Now, I felt them even though I knew the salt from the leyline was working to fix the deep tissue that had been affected. “I’m not helpless,” I whispered as I looked up and found him smiling.

  “I will do it, and you’ll answer my questions while I do, understand?” he said in a voice that sent needles into my brain.

  I swallowed and nodded, my eyes growing heavy as I watched him sit beside me on the bed. My hand absently reached up and traced the line of his sleek muscles. I felt his body tense, and his breathing was a tinge heavier at my touch.

  “Do you remember anything from your last life?” he whispered, and I lifted my eyes to look up at him.

  “No,” I replied, and wondered why I felt a need to answer his question. My brain ached, but it was minimal. “I remember nothing.”

  “Who is after you, Magdalena?” he asked, his eyes locked with mine.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, my eyes working to move away from his, as if it was some kind of spell or enchantment I saw in their inky depths.

  His fingers dipped into the cream, and his other hand lifted the shirt. “Lie back, and don’t move, Lena. You’ll feel no pain, do you understand me?” he whispered, his voice filled with meaning.

  I lay back, and watched his eyes as they lowered to my flesh. His fingers worked like the most skilled pianist, working the keys of my flesh as it created a storm inside of me, as well as outside the single window of the room. The lightning was getting closer, stronger. Or maybe it was me that was. My breath hitched in my lungs, got stuck as his fingers moved closer to the throbbing ache that had taken up r
esidence between my legs.

  I wanted to close my eyes, get lost in the multitude of sensations his hands created. I felt weighted down, as if moving would be impossible. My arms rested at my sides as he moved my legs apart and sat between them. Why he needed to be that close, I didn’t know, or care. I liked him there, close to me, close to the ache he created.

  “Lucian,” I whispered, watching as his eyes snapped back to mine, as if my words surprised him.

  “Who are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowed as his hands continued to apply the salve, sending messages to the nerves which seemed to be attached to each other, all leading to the ones in my belly that created a sensation of need.

  “I’m Magdalena, second daughter to the house of Fitzgerald,” I mumbled.

  “Do you have a dark side, sweet girl?” he murmured and I felt his fingers move inches away from my naked sex.

  “Yes,” I whispered through a hoarse voice I didn’t recognize.

  “Do you want me?” he asked.

  No! “Yes,” I replied. His mouth curved into a knowing smile, his eyes remained locked on my flesh. I felt the chilling air over my exposed core, and moved my hands to cover it, much to his surprise.

  I pulled at the shirt, watching as he set the little jar down swiftly and captured my hands. His eyes lifted to mine and I felt my cheeks blossoming with heat. I chewed on my bottom lip, trying to fight whatever the hell was going on. He was peppering me with questions, and what I wanted to say didn’t come out, instead, only the truth did.

  “You’re afraid of me,” he noted as his lips lowered and he brushed a kiss on the inside of one thigh, and then the other.

  “Yes,” I replied. I was absolutely terrified of how easily I responded to him, ten times more so than I had with any other.

  “Afraid of what you feel around me?” he continued, his hot mouth skimming the flesh, his eyes holding mine prisoner.