Defensive Magic: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Tale (Lost Library Book 3) (16 page)

Max discreetly elbowed John and then left him to join a group of younger Lycan across the room.

John looked at Vicky. What the hell had he been thinking? He shook his head and held back a sigh. He knew exactly what he’d been thinking at the time—she had a nice ass and it had been a while.

He sat down on the bar stool next to her. “Vicky.” He signaled the bartender for a beer.

“Alpha. It’s good to have you home.” Her words were welcoming, but the tone was far from it. Long blonde hair, big green eyes, and beautiful skin. She hadn’t changed over the last year. Even her hairstyle looked the same to him.

She was pissed. Not only could he hear it in her voice, he could smell it. But was she angry enough—senseless enough—to threaten his mate? He knew the answer before he asked. He took a drink as he considered what he was going to do about it.

“Was it you?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he repeated, “Was it you? The note??”

She’d always had a tell. And she’d never been half as fast as he was. So when he saw the signs that she was about to change, he could have snatched her off the stool before she had a chance. But he took a second to decide whether he wanted a scene in the bar and decided he didn’t really. She wasn’t worth it.

She slipped out the back in wolf form, her tawny tail twitching out of the way of the heavy door just in time.

John took a drink of his beer, threw a ten on the counter, and then motioned for Max to come over. “We’re leaving.”

Once they were both sitting in John’s truck, Max asked, “What the hell happened?”

“She’s our note writer. Give me a second.”

John picked up his phone and hit autodial for Ben.

“Pick up Vicky. She left the bar in wolf form.”

Ben replied, “I’ll call when she’s in custody.”

After he ended the call, Max gave him an expectant, quizzical look.

“Seriously, Max? It took me about a second to decide a chase would end with a wrestling match.” He rubbed his neck. “And another half a second to consider how Lizzie would feel about that. Ben can track her. She won’t get far.”

“You don’t think she’s a big player, do you?”

John made a dismissive sound. “You know Vicky. Do you think she is? I get that she was unhappy I’d taken a mate. But threatening Lizzie? I really believed she wouldn’t do something so foolish.”

“Maybe she thought you still had some feelings for her. That you’d go easy on her.”

“Or maybe she didn’t think at all.” John knew his tone was dismissive, but it was hard not to be. He’d been less than impressed with how she’d handled the end of their relationship—never a permanent arrangement to begin with. But this… “And if this really is about petty jealousy, then it’s been a dangerous distraction. We have more important things to worry about.”

“You know, I don’t have these kinds of problems with my exes.” Max held up his hands defensively when John shot him a baleful look. “Just saying.”

“Max, no one gets along with their exes as well as you. It’s a talent—a bizarre talent.”

“That
used
to be true,” Max replied cryptically. “Anyway—that’s beside the point. What’s the plan?”

“Wait to hear from Ben. But I can do that from home. Vicky’s already taken up too much of our time this evening. Tomorrow we’ll have a chat with her to make sure the note was personally motivated. And if it wasn’t, we try to dig up a lead.”

“If you don’t need anything else from me, I’m heading home myself.” Max paused halfway out of the truck. “I know it’s none of my business, but—maybe you should tell Lizzie about Vicky before she hears it from someone else.”

Yeah. Maybe he should do that.

Chapter 20

L
izzie had gone to bed early the night before. She could sleep all day for three days and she’d probably just be touching on the amount of sleep she’d missed recently. John’s weight had shifted the bed slightly, waking her when he’d come home. But she’d feigned sleep. He’d needed the rest, and she didn’t have anything to say that would make him rest easier.

It wasn’t a total shock when she woke up the next morning rested but worried and anxious to speak with John. She’d flipped over and snuggled into his back at some point during the night. As she slowly woke, she could feel the press of his warm back against her cheek. She rubbed her face lightly against the soft cotton of his T-shirt. Cracking her eyes open, she could just make out the beginning of pale light filtering through the window. She’d forgotten to close the curtains last night.

He was awake. She could tell by the way he held his body perfectly still, waiting. She cleared her throat. “Morning.” Her voice grated harshly in her own ears.

She tried again, this time succeeding in sounding remotely civilized. “Clothes? Since when do you sleep in jammies? Trying to keep my slutty hands off you?”

“Something like that.” She could tell by his amused tone that preserving his virtue hadn’t been a motivator. “And a T-shirt and boxers are not
jammies
.” The last word was uttered in a disgusted tone.

The rumble of his deep voice against her cheek made her smile, and she rubbed her cheek against him again. “Um-hm,” she murmured.

He shifted, and with one great heave, he turned and lifted her on top of him.

That
woke her up. “Aren’t we on a schedule this morning?” she asked as she shifted slightly.

He groaned and kissed her neck. “It’s still early.”

And then she found a better way to communicate than peppering him with silly questions.

~*~

An hour later, standing in the shower, hot water running over her body, she wondered if maybe their lovemaking had been a little more frantic, a little more intense than usual. A little desperate, even. But not because she believed it would be the last time. That wasn’t why at all. And if she had cried, it was just a little bit.

She joined John in the kitchen a little while later, the smell of bacon quickening her steps. “I might need to get my cholesterol checked soon. I’m not sure I can actually eat bacon every day
and
keep all of my arteries functional.”

John just grinned. “You’ll be fine. Anyway, doesn’t one salad void a bacon breakfast? Just have salad for lunch.”

She grunted unintelligibly around her half-eaten bite of bacon.

“That’s disgusting.”

She swallowed, wiped the corner of her mouth delicately, and said, “But you still love me.”

He huffed out a small laugh.

“Aren’t you going to shower?” she asked curiously.

He stilled over the frying pan. “No.”

His mood had shifted. She looked at the old-fashioned clock on the wall near the breakfast table. They still had a little time.

He finished flipping the bacon, and then he said slowly, deliberately, “I’d rather smell you on me than not.”

Oh, lord. She was going to cry. He would be fine. He would.

“The same location as before?” How many of those places could they have? No—she didn’t want to know the answer to that.

“Yeah. Can you be ready in an hour? After you finish breakfast.”

He was always trying to feed her. It was usually cute and a little funny. “Sure—after breakfast.” He was doling out her egg, bacon, and toast, but she didn’t see a second plate. “Aren’t you eating?”

“I already ate. I’ve got a few last minute things to do.” Before he finished explaining, the doorbell rang. “That’s Scott. I’m going to head over to the neighbor’s for just a minute. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She nodded as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

He must have let Scott in as he left, because a few minutes later Scott appeared in the kitchen clutching an insulated mug. He looked significantly more at ease than Lizzie felt.

“Sorry,” she started apologetically, “but do you know what errand was so important?” She hated to pry, but really—running across the street to the neighbor’s house today of all days?

“Ah.” Scott sat down at the kitchen table after she motioned him to join her. Scott was clearly trying to decide if he was supposed to keep quiet or not. Eventually he said, “Your neighbor’s an attorney.”

Lizzie frowned in confusion. Oh shit. That was not good news. Just to make sure she understood him, she asked, “And why would he be seeing an attorney?”

Patiently, calmly, he replied, “I think he’s updating his will. Max and Ben are there, as well, as witnesses. They should be finishing up and back in the next half hour.”

Lizzie slowly pushed her plate away. She’d lost her appetite. Actually, her stomach was churning rather violently.

“Listen—you know that means nothing? Other than good sense, I mean. Any idiot would sort his affairs in this situation, and the Alpha is not an idiot.” Scott shook his head. “John is an incredible fighter. He’ll win.”

He seemed so certain.

“But there’s a chance, right?” She knew he wouldn’t lie to her. She was the Alpha Mate.

He gave her words serious consideration. “Always. But the odds are heavily in John’s favor.”

“Thank you.” She frowned, recalling what he’d said. “So Max is coming?”

Scott smiled, his eyebrows raising, indicating his surprise. “Yes, ma’am. That’s new—having a human who’s not a Pack member present—but I don’t see Gregor arguing about it. It’s a good thing, because Max has been—persistent. His gut’s been talking to him, I guess.”

Lizzie looked at the cooling food on her plate and her stomach took another nosedive. She decided to give up on breakfast, but she didn’t want to sit and twiddle her thumbs for the next hour. Her blood pressure would skyrocket. So after she’d cleared her dishes, she decided to hit Scott up for some help with her scent project. She’d practiced the shield. Not enough to be proficient, but at least she had the concept down. Not so, the scent problem.

“Scott.”

He looked up from his phone.

“Any chance you might want to help me with a little project?”

Warily, he said, “Okay.” Then, with a wry twist to his voice, he qualified his agreement. “But only because I’m sure you wouldn’t have me do anything that would get me in trouble, would you?”

“This is perfectly safe. I’m like ninety-eight percent sure of it. No, the only real danger is in pissing off Logan.” She grinned. “We have a bet.”

As she explained the concept to Scott, she realized that this was exactly what she needed. A project to take her mind off everything.

Scott looked discomfited by the possibility that she could alter perception by manipulating scent, but he seemed to find the details fascinating. “So basically what you’re doing is a sophisticated version of a hunter disguising his scent.”

Lizzie cocked her head thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but I guess so.”

“Tell me again how you plan to do it.”

“I’m going to impregnate a piece of paper with some specific emotion—I think anger works for today. I’m guessing the stronger the emotion, the better it will work to mask my real feelings.”

After digging in a few kitchen drawers, she found a box of John’s business cards. Strange place for them, but she wouldn’t quibble. They were perfect for what she wanted to do. Any scrap of paper should work, but something tied to John just seemed right.

Pilar had walked her through recording words in a book, but this was different. She had to create the emotion she wanted on the paper or it wouldn’t work. What made her angry? She didn’t have to look far. Gregor made her angry. And Carlos made her angry. Even David still made her angry. That these men—these Lycan—would dare try to harm the man she loved, that made her incredibly angry. She pulled forth another painful memory: Worth stealing the very soul from John. That scene made her blood boil. She was so very angry that she had difficulty finding her magic and casting the ward that would tie that anger to the small business card. But when it was done, it was as if the anger had drained away from her and into the scrap of paper in her hand.

“All right, Scott.” She tried to hand him the card, but he shook his head. “I just want you to check that it smells right,” she said, reaching out to hand it to him again.

He laughed, but there was no humor discernible in the sound. “I’m not touching that. And if you want to know if that thing smells like wild-ass, pissed off woman, the answer is yes.”

Disconcerted by his response, she said, “Oh.” She blinked, withdrawing her hand. “Sorry.”

Too much emotion? Too much magic? She thought back, and she recalled giving her cast only a slight push of will. She’d told Pilar that she’d be more careful and that she’d focus on a more subtle assertion of will. Here she was, trying to uphold her promise, and still she was getting extreme results.
Great.
If not her magic, then it was the emotion itself. She was just that crazy-angry. She’d remember to tone it down a little next time.

“Now I’m going to try to create a ward that covers me in this scent.”

Suiting action to words, she envisioned the card in her hand as a small smoke bomb. Pretending that it was leaking out wisps of red smoke, she manipulated the tendrils of smoke to cover her entire body. She couldn’t smell the anger. And unlike most of her wards, this ward had no visual component. Since there was nothing to actually see, she had to create the smoke bomb as a construct entirely in her mind.

When she thought she had good coverage, she asked Scott, “Okay, I think I’m ready. What do I smell like?”

Scott considered her. Then he took a few slow, deep breaths, inhaling through his nose. “Hmm. My wolf nose is better, but even with my human nose I can smell your fear. It’s overlaid by the smell of anger, but the fear is still there.”

Shit. Her smoke construct wasn’t the right idea. But the more she thought about it, the less confident she was that she’d find a solution. Anything that would let her breathe would also transfer scent. What the heck had the other spell caster used? The scent void she and John had encountered had obviously not suffocated the subject.

Scott stood up from the table. At her questioning look, he said, “The Alpha’s back.”

Lizzie nodded but didn’t get up.

A few seconds later, the kitchen was full of men. Not an ideal situation to call John out on his morning activities. And really, she didn’t want that to be the last conversation she had with him before they left.