Coveted - Book 3 in the Gwen Sparks Series (3 page)

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think of me?” My tone dripped with angry sarcasm. “Is that what you see when you look at me? A superficial woman more worried about stocking her closet than her responsibilities?”

The funny thing was I had always said those exact words about Fiona. I didn’t mean it to be hurtful though, and now it seemed I was just like her, at least in Dorian’s eyes. It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did. I knew who I was and screw what his impression of me was. Yet, it did bother me.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Dorian took a couple steps up. The strong features of his face softened as he looked at me. “I’m just saying that you may lose your magic, but you’re gaining power. Do you have any idea how many witches would love to be a spirit walker? Not everyone is cut out for it.”

I released my anger. Since returning from Flora I’d been on edge and moody, a ball of frazzled nerves. Thinking about what he said, the annoyance ebbed away. I’d embraced my spirit walker self and if that meant losing my physical magic, then so be it. The other option would be to refuse it and go insane from it. And what kind of option was that? So I wouldn’t be able to conjure items, glamour my appearance or cast spells. There were worst things.

“It just caught me off guard,” I admitted. It was yet another piece of my former self I was losing. But I tried seeing it as evolving for the better instead of losing anything. I was determined to look on the bright side even if my life was dark and scary. I couldn’t allow things that were out of my control shake me.

“So you ready to kick my ass?” Dorian grinned causing me to smile.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

“How did the talk with Mr. Wonderful go?” Dorian was driving my Jeep down Main Street. I eyed the strip of businesses lining the street, their artsy signs glowing above their doors. As we passed my store, Broomsticks, a wave of guilt gnawed at me. I hadn’t worked very much since returning home. There always seemed to be something else more pressing to do, like training for the impending attack I wasn’t sure would ever come.

“Don’t,” I bit out, shooting Dorian a warning glare. It wasn’t a secret that he didn’t like Aiden and vice versa. As far as I knew, Dorian had never been in a relationship so I didn’t expect him to understand what I was going through. Whenever he brought up my ex, I made a point to either warn him away from the topic or change it altogether. I wasn’t sure if that was because I didn’t want him poking the fresh wound, or if I was embarrassed about being deceived so easily. Sometimes I wondered if I looked up the word “fool” in the dictionary if I would find my picture. I was too afraid to check with Mr. Webster though.

“That bad, huh?” True to his character, Dorian didn’t drop it. Heaven forbid a woman (me) gave into one man (Aiden) and not him. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dorian had never been rejected in his life. I knew what irked him about Aiden was the fact that when we were in Moon, I wouldn’t swoon under his charms and betray my love for Aiden. I mentally snorted at myself. A lot of good my loyalty had done me in the end.

“We had a civilized conversation and that is all I’m going to say about it,” I told him. When he didn’t respond I looked over at him. He was shaking his head back and forth, a bemused look on his face.

“What?” I asked, annoyed with his unspoken words. Dorian shifted, realizing I was watching him. He glanced at me before looking back at the road.

He shrugged. “He’s a fool. If you were mine I wouldn’t give you up so easily.” He threw another glance my way. “I should send him a thank-you card though; had he fought for you, then I wouldn’t get my shot to prove to you what you’ve been missing out on.”

His comment half offended, half excited me. “It wouldn’t matter how hard he fought; he knows I’m resolute in my decision to take time away from him.”

Dorian snorted. “He either doesn’t know how to claim what he wants or he doesn’t care enough to get it.” He slid me a sidelong glance. “I couldn’t watch you walk away.” His eyebrows dipped together and his mouth quirked up on the side. The confusion on his face belied the confidence of his words.

“Even you will eventually tire of being rejected and move on. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who exerts energy on something with no reward.” I turned my head, looking out the window with a small smile on my lips. Screwing with Dorian was the perfect distraction for my abused brain.

“There will be a reward.” Dorian’s voice was low and smooth—promising. A small tingle prickled along my skin. He pulled alongside the road, turning the key to shut the car off and got out. I followed him, slamming the door behind me a little too hard. I stared ahead unenthused at the open field as Dorian started making his way across it. When he was fifty or so feet ahead of me, he turned back and motioned for me to join him. Stomping through the tall grass in high-heeled boots was not easy. I wasn’t sure how long it’d be before the magic left, but if learning to throw a punch could save my life then I’d grin and bear the bad news he gave me at the apartment.

 “This doesn’t seem like it’s in your job description,” I told him.

“Spirit walkers derive from me,” Dorian said. “Since the numbers are dwindling, and there aren’t enough to take on the task of training, it’s in my hands.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket, setting it off to the side. A tiny part within me was excited to spar with Death. I had been fighting for my life for the past few months, it was nice to have a tangible thing to take my frustrations out on.

Dorian had chosen a large grassy field that sat outside of town. The glow of the moon bathed the landscape in its silver light. Ice crystals clung to the meadow and glistened. A few lazy clouds hung against the star encrusted sky.

“Okay, feet shoulder width apart,” Dorian stepped closer, placing his leg between mine and nudging my legs wider. He reached down and clasped my wrists in his hands, bending my arms up in front of my face. I squeezed my fingers into a tight fist; a smile playing on my lips, mimicking the one on Dorian’s face. He was wearing a grey thermal shirt, snug enough to see the definition of his strong arms and sculpted chest. His warm hands lingered on mine a little too long before he took a step back.

“I want you to punch my hands, alternating with your right and left.” He held his hands out in front of me, and all of a sudden I felt silly. When I hesitated, Dorian lifted an eyebrow and said, “Come on, witch, give it your best shot.”

No more prodding needed, I struck my right fist out and connected to the meaty flesh of his palm. A loud smack echoed through the night as a stinging sensation crawled its way through my fingers.

“Again,” Dorian ordered.

I struck, this time with my left fist.

“Again.”

Thwack.
I punched with my right and then my left over and over, gaining speed and pain as my fists made contact with Dorian’s hand. After ten minutes, or it could have been an hour, Dorian caught my fist. My breathing was labored and a thin sheen of sweat blanketed my forehead while Dorian looked unfazed by my assault.
Jerk.

“Good job. You’re not as fragile as you look, princess,” Dorian chuckled. That comment earned him a kick to the shin since he still had my hand pinned. He cringed but shook it off. A wide smile spread across my lips.

“Ew, she’s got a temper too,” Dorian said, releasing my hand and walking a slow circle around me. I pivoted my head to watch him, my body tensing up for his next move. He stopped just behind me, his body pressing against my back. Leaning down, he rested his face against the side of mine so that his lips were poised next to my ear. I bit my lip to restrain my grin from widening. Ever so slowly, Dorian’s arm snaked around my waist, his large hand slipping beneath my unzipped jacket to rest on my stomach. I ignored the tingles that his touch caused, keeping my head in the game. I concentrated on anything but the feel of his hard body behind me and the flexing of his fingers as he bunched my shirt, causing it to rise a little bit.

“Now, what do you do if your attacker comes from behind?” Dorian whispered. Since it was him playing the part of the attacker, the only thought that came to mind was,
let him have his way with me.
I’m sure that answer would have pleased Dorian, but we were out here tonight to train, not to flirt.

Instinctively, my hand began to glow as magic rushed to my fingertips.

“Ah ahah,” Dorian tsked. “No magic.”

Ignoring him, I reached my arm up and zapped his hand. When Dorian released me I turned around quick and sent my arm flying through the air and toward his face. I wasn’t quick enough though; he caught my fist midair.

“Nice try, cupcake, but when your magic fails that won’t work. Let’s try again, this time no cheating.”

“There’s no cheating in a fight,” I told him. “It’s play dirty or die.”

The side of Dorian’s mouth lifted up into a smirk. “You may just survive Holly’s wrath after all.”

I frowned. Had he thought I wouldn’t? If Death wasn’t on my side then I was in some serious trouble. I never asked Dorian when I would die, though I knew he knew. The idea was tempting but too scary to voice.

In position behind me again, Dorian asked, “What do you do?”

I remembered the countless movies I’d watched where women took self-defense classes. Though I couldn’t remember all the steps, I knew one. Rising my leg up, knee bent, I thrust it down as hard as I could and stomped on Dorian’s instep. He released me but as I took a step away he reached out and grabbed my arm. Swinging around I—and I’m not proud of this— swatted at his hand.

“Well that’s not going to hurt anyone,” Dorian teased.

Deciding my legs could do more damage than my fists; I raised my leg again and kicked out toward his chest. Releasing my hand, he quickly blocked the blow of my spiked boot. He tugged upwards, throwing me off balance. I landed with a hard thump on my butt, Dorian stood over me with a satisfied smile on his lips.

“You’re adorable when you pout.”

“I’m not pouting,” I snapped, getting to my feet. I wanted to smack the smug smile off his lips. Stalking towards him, I threw my right arm out and then my left. Dorian blocked each of my blows but that didn’t stop me. I kept coming at him, determined to land a hit. Dorian stepped back and I pushed forward. Punch, block, punch, block. It was a never-ending battle. His soft chuckles taunted me, driving me forward and making my anger skyrocket. Finally I decided to take my own advice—play dirty or die. I directed all of the magic flowing through my body to both of my hands. They lit up like I was holding two balls of bright, blue light. The hesitation in Dorian’s steps was the confidence booster I needed. Flinging my hands in front of me, I cast my magic out and towards Dorian’s chest. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would sting like a son of a bitch.

The magic smashed into his stomach, throwing him back a couple feet where he landed on his side. I was breathing so hard I had to concentrate on slowing the rapid intake of air. When Dorian didn’t move, didn’t pop up and make some sarcastic comment, fear replaced my exhaustion. I rushed towards him, falling on my knees to inspect his body. His chest still rose and fell with steady breath.

“Dorian?” I shook his shoulder. Fisting his jacket, I turned him over so that I could see his face. His sunglasses had flown off and his eyelids were closed. I leaned down to listen to his heartbeat. The calming thump of his heart echoed in his chest. Leaning back up, I shifted my eyes to his face and then to where I’d hit him. With nervous fingers I lifted his shirt up to reveal his taut stomach. There wasn’t a mark, not even a scratch from where my magic had blasted him.

“Dorian, wake up!” I tapped his cheek soft at first and then harder. His eyes flinched, a smile lifting his mouth up. Relief washed through me, and then anger. How dare he pretend to be knocked out. His little stunt had about given me a heart attack. I leaned back on my heels, ready to stand up and leave him lying in the field, when he reached out for my arm and I lost my balance. I fell on top of him, his arms encircling my waist and holding me prisoner.

“Let go,” I warned.

He snorted, that damned smile still holding strong. “I said no magic.”

“And I said there are no rules when it comes to fighting. Now that we’re caught up on the conversation, let me go.” I struggled against his body, trying to get my hands underneath me to lift myself up, but Dorian’s hold was unyielding. I was in an awkward position, half on top of him and half off. My legs weren’t any good because if I tried to use them to push myself up, my face planted into Dorian’s chest. I kept my face turned away from him; otherwise we’d be nose to nose. I could only imagine what I looked like. Luckily there weren’t any other witnesses to my shame.

“You can wiggle all you want,” Dorian said. “I’m rather enjoying it.” At that I stilled, my body going limp and melting against his. Now that I’d calmed down, I noticed the scent of his cologne—woodsy and clean. I wanted to inhale deep, take it into my lungs and store it in my memory, but that would have defeated the point I was trying to make. I was mad, reeling and frustrated beyond belief. But man, did he smell good, and the feel of his body just beneath mine threatened to penetrate my determination.

His fingers flexed on the small of my back. Frustrations gone, I was hyperaware of those hands and the path they were beginning to follow. I held my breath as they slid across the hollow of my back. My shirt had come up a little bit with my earlier struggle, and the warmth of Dorian’s fingers on my bare skin was making me forget why I was mad in the first place.

“Don’t you think we should talk about what happened in Massachusetts?” Dorian’s voice was low, smooth and raspy with his inner thoughts. Given what question he’d just asked, I could guess what he was thinking about.

I released the breath I’d been holding, unsure how to respond. We’d come so close to sealing the deal and now it was the constant elephant in the room. Dorian wanted to discuss it while I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to flirt and train with Dorian, not categorize our relationship. Those kinds of conversations always led to rules, intense emotions and heartbreak. Since my heart was already broken, I was a bit protective of it. Not that Dorian was looking to sweep me off my feet. He’d told me multiple times that he didn’t do the whole relationship thing. No, his motto was more of the ‘wham-bam, thank you ma’am’ variety than the hopeless romantic so many women are looking for. Though I doubted he ever told the women thank you. I smiled through my nerves, imagining Dorian devoted to one woman and mushy. It just didn’t fit the man.