A Witch's Fury (8 page)

Even if we were both trying—well, he was
trying. I was trying to forget.

“What do you want?” he asked, dragging his
bloodshot eyes to my own.

I sat at the edge of the sofa, facing him.
“The witches are up to something.”

He scoffed, standing and throwing his glass
in the same movement. It shattered against the far wall. The effort
threw him off balance. “I don’t KNOW ANYTHING, Olivia. Why are you
here?” He rounded on me, bellowing, “Why can’t you go kill
something, torture someone, to get your information? Why do I have
to be your liaison to the witches because your piss poor manners
and ‘poor me’ excuses grant you leave to do anything you want?” He
moved to make another drink, stumbling. “Oh right, I forgot, your
boyfriend—” heavy emphasis of, “
left you
. He finally
realized you were more trouble than a fuck was worth.”

I was aware he wasn’t really angry at me, but
the digs stung, anyway. In that moment, hurting him would have felt
wonderful. Clenching my jaw, I stood. I really wanted to tell him
where to shove it, but I wasn’t risking the tears that would make
me weak, so instead I just turned and left.

He called after me, “Shit, Olie, I’m sorry.
Mark wants to adopt a shifter and I—“ I closed the door on his
words, exhaling a ragged breath.

I’d forgive him, but not today.

I slammed the door of my SUV and called
Becky. My fingers clenched the steering wheel with deadly
force.

“Yo boss,” she greeted me, chomping on
something probably high in sugar.

“Prep the trespassers. I’ll be there in
thirty.”

I could hear the grin in her answer, “Yes
ma’m.”

…

I don’t typically keep prisoners. But when a
space was needed for interrogation in the short term, we had an old
farmhouse outfitted with soundproof rooms and all the toys a girl
like me could ask for.

I had both vampires strung up by their
wrists, toes brushing the old concrete flooring. Running my fingers
over cold metal blades of various sizes, I hummed soothingly to
myself. The third one had died shortly after I arrived in town.

Having made my decision, I sat down in front
of them on the tacky vinyl chair liberated from the ramshackle
farmhouse kitchen.

“So, who would like to speak first?” I asked,
pointing the blade between the two of them.

Stiff shoulders and clenched jaws met my
request, eyes riveted behind me.

I sighed happily. “I was really hoping you’d
say that.”

…

Six hours later, both the vampires were dead.
I had wanted to prolong their demise to send a message, but I had
things to do.

“I got nothing, boss,” Becky informed me
through the cell phone clamped tightly to my ear. I hated when she
called me that. I had flashbacks of that horrible strip club I had
been forced to infiltrate.

“Dammit,” I hissed, listening to her chomp
her gum.

“You do the boys dirty?” she asked
eagerly.

I stifled a laugh, looking around at the dust
on the floor.

“You would have been proud.”

She sighed, “I always miss the good
ones.”

“Next time I’ll show more restraint,” I
promised. I felt better having mutilated the two vampires but
Jerry’s words still stung in my raw wounds.

“I’ll try Mal.” Not that she wanted to hear
from me. “Thanks, Becky. “

“Anytime, boss.”

I cleaned up my mess, my mind occupied as I
completed the menial task before heading down to the kitchen. There
I washed my hands under the cold water and dried them on the paper
towels.

Satisfied that my mess was cleaned up, I set
the alarm and locked the doors before stomping down the faded white
steps and into my SUV.

I texted Mal my request and fiddled with the
radio while I waited for her to respond.

I needed her to run the names that the now
deceased informants had given me. I had spent the night toying
around with boys and though it would be bedtime for Mal, I was
hoping to catch her before she turned in.

Fine, hurry up, she responded to my text.

I smiled, pocketing my phone and heading
out.

…

A grumpy Mal met me at the front door.
Apparently, I caused too many problems on my own. Silently, we made
our way to their computer lab.

“What do you have on Patricia Bellarosa?” I
asked, sitting in a chair next to her and looking over her
shoulder. It was just she and I here at this early hour.

“What do you want with her?” she grumbled as
she typed rapidly, still annoyed that I was keeping her from her
beauty sleep.

Tommy, my usual hacker and computer guru, was
on a group vacation to Disneyland. I missed him dearly. I did not
want to be here.

Resting my chin in my palm, I watched the
screen pull up a beautiful woman with long ice-blond hair and a
cruel smile.

“Wow,” Mal whistled. “Every House that took
her in exiled her. That takes talent.”

I grunted in agreement. She was just under a
hundred years old and, from the information listed about her, as
twisted as they came. There was even a mention of her draining
babies.

“Why hasn’t anyone put her down?” I asked,
both disgusted with the file and annoyed that the vampires hadn’t
taken care of their dirty laundry, especially after they’d come out
of the proverbial closet and announced themselves to the
humans.

“They’ve tried, it wasn’t successful. She’s a
killer for hire now and her record is impressive.”

“Not as impressive as mine.”

“Is this what you need?”

“No.” Rubbing my tired eyes, I searched the
screen again, trying to see a connection between her and Tate.

Mal’s phone pinged at her and she sighed
heavily. “I gotta go, security issue.”

I nodded, still staring at the screen.

“Let yourself out and do not start
trouble.”

I nodded absentmindedly, not hearing the door
shut behind her. What was I missing? Tate had never taken her in
and there was no mention of them being at the same Houses. Maybe
they met somewhere? The name would ring a bell? Maybe this was all
a wild goose chase. I didn’t even know if this name was real or a
trumped up lead to keep me spinning in circles. I needed to find
the bitch and have a conversation, one killer to another.

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes,
mentally ticking off my to-do list: I had to find Patricia
Bellarosa. I needed the witches to stop whatever weird shit they
were up to. And I’d better patch up my rocky relationship with
Grams, not to mention my damaged relationship with Jerry. The list
felt endless, my burdens had never felt this heavy before. My life
was divided into two categories, before and after Blake. Damn my
weak heart for missing him so.

Rubbing my temples, I heard the door open.
“Forgot something?” I asked Mal.

Silence met my answer. I looked over to ask
her if I needed an escort out. The words died on my lips, my mouth
hanging open as Blake stood over me, staring down from impossibly
blue eyes.

Shock and desire removed the air in my lungs.
Pain followed shortly after and had me launching out of my seat,
backing away from him, stumbling over my upturned chair. My
miserable body responded to him in ways I didn’t need him
scenting.

His inhale and upturned lips told me it was
too late.

Shit.

“Olivia.” My name on his lips was almost too
much. I couldn’t look at him, shame forcing me to look away. I had
shown him all my broken pieces, he knew too much.

He stepped closer, between my car keys and
me.

SHIT.

I couldn’t look at him, shouldn’t look at
him. Another look into those devastatingly handsome eyes and I’d
give in to my desires.

I was certain of it.

Just to feel him near again, to hear my name
on his lips in pleasure, to be chosen over Angelina.

I wanted to be worthy of his love.

His gentle touch under my chin had me gasping
for air, the contact jarring me to my toes. I looked into his
mesmerizing cobalt gaze.

“Find what you are looking for?” His soft
voice washed over me, heat pooling inside of me.

“No.” My voice was hardly above a whisper. My
eyes searched his, wanting, needing to understand this sudden
change in him. Hope, that foolish beast, was willing him to have
changed his mind. Clan be dammed.

Damn him and that slow seductive smile.

Damn my traitorous body.

I had to get back in control. I had to push
his advancing form away. I couldn’t let his lips come any closer to
my own.

I shouldn’t want this, he broke my heart and
he didn’t get a second chance.

But I’d do anything just to have him back,
just to feel whole for a little while longer.

“Blake,” I whispered before his lips grazed
mine.

Thoughts fled me, instinct and need
dominated.

He nuzzled the sensitive flesh under my ear,
my hands fisting into his shirt of their own will, closing the
distance between our bodies.

The emotional distance dissipated, followed
by my pants. The ripping sound must have been my underwear. His
hands on my ass lifted me up to be impaled on his waiting length.
Our lips still intertwined, I squealed into his mouth, a dark
chuckle answering my cry.

Something hard hit my back and I assumed it
was the wall. I was all sensation, the pain in my chest easing, the
joy of being reconnected to him forcing tears to leak down my
cheeks.

My soul was home.

I panted, holding onto him as the pleasure
stole feeling in my limbs. Closing my eyes and nuzzling my face
into his neck, I exhaled, feeling everything inside me settle into
perfection.

“Shit,” he whispered suddenly, pulling back
to look down at me. I looked up, and regret looked back at me.

“What's wrong?” I asked as he pulled out of
me, dropping my legs abruptly. Thankfully, they held, shaky as I
was.

As he put himself together quickly I could
only stare at him in confusion, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze.

“I can't be with you, Olivia.” He came
closer, still avoiding my gaze, but resting a hand against my
heart.

“I love you, but I can’t do this.”

His words emptied my heart of my short-lived
joy and I gave serious thought to killing him.

If I thought for a second it would end the
pain inside of me, I would have.

I pulled on jeans, leaving my ruined
underwear behind, and leaving the compound with a promise I would
never return.

…

I didn’t run to my SUV, but I wanted to like
in one of those terribly cheesy romance movies Kass forced me to
watch. My heart shattered and with every step, the pieces crunched
under foot.

Instead, I left just how I had entered,
silently, my posture stiff and my emotions under heavy guard.

I didn’t remember the drive, didn’t recall
getting out of the SUV and falling to my knees at Lawrence’s grave,
but here I was again, seeking comfort from Logan and Darren’s
grandfather. Stephen, the Puppet Master, had reanimated him,
bringing my life info full frontal contact with the shifters.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I leaned against
the cold stone, wiling my heart to grow cold as well, but my damn
brain wouldn’t shut off. Blake’s final words were on repeat inside
my head: I love you, but I can’t do this.

Chapter 7

My
phone ringing relentlessly finally pulled me from my despondent
stupor.

I glared at the screen. “What?” I muttered to
Logan.

“You are needed,” he said, his words clipped
in anger. “NOW.”

I looked at the screen, seeing that he had
hung up on me. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

Sure would be nice to know
where
I was
needed.

I pushed myself up and worked the kinks out
on my way back to the SUV.

Kass called next, sobbing, “Olie, where are
you?”

“On my way.” So that’s where I was
needed.

…

I parked in front of Darren and Kass’s home.
It was in a newly built neighborhood with pristine landscaping and
green shaded parks. Before rising from the driver’s seat, I had to
take a moment to center my emotions as best as I could.

This distraction helped, but my misery was
still threatening to crush me.

Blowing out a breath, I opened the SUV’s
door, then slammed it loudly behind me before striding to the front
door. Logan yanked it open before I could even knock. He took a
deep breath as I walked by, a soft chuckle on his lips.

“So soon?” he questioned, irritated, why I
have no idea. Who I slept with wasn’t any of his business.

I turned, my blood running cold. He smelled
Blake on me. For one painful moment my guards broke, pain lacing my
heart and trying to push tears from my eyes.

Anger fast followed. “Leave it,” I warned
him.

Voices in the kitchen drew me.

“This is not up for debate,” Kass hissed at
Darren, her mocha eyes narrowed at him, a half-eaten cookie
dangling forgotten in her fingers. She must be pissed.

Darren tried not to back away from the venom
in her stare, but his jaw tightened as he watched her. “I do not
need a babysitter.”

Kass threw up her hands, the cookie spraying
crumbs and her anger rapidly switching to tears. “This isn’t about
you! This is about the fact that every female shifter has been
throwing herself at you, even when I am present!” Her face fell as
her voice broke. “Olivia can keep them off you better than I can,
just please take her.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the tears or the
pleading that did it, but I watched Darren reach out and fold her
into his arms, “Okay, okay,” he whispered.

Hannah looked at me with a raised eyebrow,
“Yeah, you keep them harlots off my Daddy.”

I smiled, patting her head, “As you
command.”

“Who taught you that word?” Kass asked,
coming in with Darren to the living room.