Everlasting Bad Boys (17 page)

She sagged against him, her body limp as sleep claimed her. He pulled her close.

And thought about the magnificent twists of fate.

And how very, very easy it was to kill a witch.

After all, his mother had burned so quickly…

“
Anubis
.”

The black cat hissed and arched his back as Julian Kathers crouched before him. Julian listened intently, a frown forming along his brow, then, “
Dammit.”

The warlock who sat on the other side of the room arched a brow. “Trouble, charmer?”

Julian stroked the cat’s back, trying his best to calm Anubis. The cat was shaking, scared to death.

With damn good reason. “A soul-hunter’s in town.”

For the first time in the fifteen years that Julian had known the warlock, fear flickered over Michael Deveaux’s face. “Bullshit.”

Anubis hissed again.

“He’s with one of the witches.” Fucking bad news. The witches—they were easy enough to pick off one at a time, after they’d been bound, anyway. And he sure did enjoy the sight of a witch bitch burning, but—

But the
cazadores
were a different game.

He’d never gone up against one of them. Didn’t have the power to face one.

Did the warlock? Julian’s heart pumped fast at the thought. Maybe.
Maybe.
A wild laugh sprang to his lips, but he bit it back.

I’d love to see a cazador die.

Maybe the bastard would beg. Plead. He loved it when prey pleaded.

Made the death so much sweeter.

Fuck, but he should have been born stronger! Not as a damn worthless charmer who could only talk to strays. Those fucking witch bitches in his old neighborhood had taunted him, using their magic to make every day of his life so damn miserable, one spell after another.

But he’d shown them.
He’d shown them all.

A witch’s screams were so sweet, and the flesh of a witch smelled so very good when it burned.

The laugh he couldn’t hold back any longer broke from his lips.

The warlock had swiped a hell of a lot of energy from the witches over the years.
Yes
, maybe he could do it—

Another laugh. The cat shook beneath his petting hand.

The warlock rose, the light of a nearby lamp reflecting for a moment in his golden hair. “The hunter saw the cat?” His voice was calm, even.

No fear—of course not.
Because he knew that he could take the cazador bastard.

Excitement had Julian’s heart drumming even faster.

Anubis arched his back again and his whiskers twitched.

“The hunter was with the witch—the black-haired one, Serena—at her house. He followed the cat inside.”

Anubis
meowed.
A high, plaintive sound.

“What did the damn feline just say?” The warlock demanded, voice snapping as he stalked toward them.

“The
cazador
—he said he’d be coming.”
And that I’d better start fucking running.

But Julian hadn’t run from anyone, not since he was sixteen and those witch bitches at his school had thought it would be funny to chase him after class with one of the stone gargoyles that
should
have forever stayed resting on the roof of the old building next to his high school.

They’d known he was
Other,
so they’d felt confident in playing with him. The bitches never would have worked tricks like that on humans.

For the longest time, he’d heard their laughter when he closed his eyes at night.

Then, after he’d hooked up with the warlock, he’d been able to hear only their screams.

“He’ll have the cat’s scent.” The momentary heat that had flared in the man’s voice was gone. He walked around Julian, keeping a careful distance from Anubis.

The warlock had never liked his cat, Julian knew that.

But he’d sure used Anubis every chance he got.

Such a perfect pet. So good at sneaking into the homes of witches.

Witches always had a soft spot for black cats.

Fools.

“We can be ready for him,” Julian said, confidence and the thrill of the kill filling him. “Let the hunter come, we’ll gut him and—”

Snap.
Julian’s words ended. His hand stopped stroking the cat.

Anubis jerked back, tiny teeth bared.

Slowly, the warlock lifted his hands from Julian’s neck.

So easy to kill charmers
, Michael thought.
Almost as easy as killing humans.

The best part? He hadn’t even needed to waste a drop of his magic.

“One problem down,” he muttered, and smiled at the cat. The soul-hunter could trace the cat’s scent all he liked now—he’d just find death waiting for him.

Lifting his hand, he motioned for the cat. “Here, little kitty…come to me…so I can send you to hell with your master…”

The cat turned and ran, jumping up onto the window ledge and then diving into the night.

Michael laughed.

The cat had been smarter than the charmer.

Not really surprising.

So, the witch, Serena, had summoned a soul-hunter. Interesting.

Resourceful.

Usually the witches just ran and hid when the first binding mark appeared on their flesh.

Hmm. The witch had to be strong. Most couldn’t use a summoning spell even at full power, much less initially bound.

Good. It had been far too long since he’d taken a strong witch’s magic.

He stepped over the body. Headed for the door. He’d face the
cazador
on his own time…and at a place of his choosing.

But first, first he had to finish the witches.

Because he’d need every last drop of their power to kill the soul-hunter on his trail.

Fortunately, he knew just which of the coven members he would mark for first death.

The lovely Serena.

S
he woke to find him standing at the foot of her bed. Dawn had yet to creep across the sky, so he stood, clothed in the shadows and darkness. His golden eyes glittered at her, lit with a heat that reflected his dark hunger.

Lust.

Serena sat up slowly. She was still dressed, just missing shoes, and a sheet had been pulled over her body.

She licked her lips, staring up at him. The silence in the room was thick and heavy and she waited…

Luis crept around the bed, and the carpet muffled the sounds of his footsteps. Closer,
closer…

Her heart hitched faster, but she didn’t speak, not yet.

He neared the side of her bed. Stopped and gazed down at her with those burning eyes.

So much need.

Was the same desire reflected in her own stare?

It had been so long since she’d been with a lover. So long since she’d let down the wall around her and trusted another to be close to her.

You can’t trust him
, a soft, niggling voice warned.

No, she couldn’t.

She
shouldn’t.

But she did want him.

Her last lover had left over a year ago. Gotten tired of her secrets. Human, he’d sensed she was holding back on him, but Serena had never felt ready to tell James the truth about herself. She’d been afraid he would run.

Then, one day, she’d come home to find a note waiting for her.

And no James.

After a few days, she’d stopped missing him.

Would the same thing happen when her hunter left? When his job was done, would she be able to write him off as easily?

When Luis’s hand brushed over her cheek, she jumped.

“I want you.” His voice, so deep, almost guttural, growled from the darkness.

Just the sound of his voice, hardened with hunger, had her breasts tightening, nipples pebbling.

She’d never been with a man as strong as he was. Her lovers had generally been mortals, except for the bear charmer and the fox shifter, and—

“Don’t think about anything right now…but me.” His fingers slid over her flesh. Caught her chin. Tipped back her head and—

He kissed her. Pushed his tongue past her lips and took her mouth just as he’d done before.

And, just as before, her blood began to heat, desire to uncoil, hard and fast, within her. Her hands caught his shoulders, held on tight.

Magic.

Passion.

Power.

It was all there in his kiss, and she wanted it—wanted him.

For the first time in twenty-nine years, dammit, she decided to take what she wanted.

Serena’s lips widened, and she met him, tongue to tongue, mouth to mouth, kissing greedily, rising to hold him tighter.

Fuck being the pristine one
. Holding out for love—well, that had never worked so well for her.

Going for the wild, mad ride of pleasure—she’d just see how that worked out.

Besides, death was on her trail, and she wanted to make certain she lived as much as she could.

Every. Single. Moment.

“I want you.” He gritted the words against her mouth. Her lashes lifted and she found Luis staring down at her.

A rush of sensual power flooded through her veins and Serena heard herself respond, in a voice gone husky with matching desire, “Then why don’t you take me?”

In the next second, she was flat on her back in the bed. Luis was over her. Her hands were pinned in the bedding. His legs tangled with hers. The thick length of his arousal pushed against her.

Yes.

This was what she wanted. Wild. Fast. Hot. Hard.

His mouth blazed a path down her neck. Lips branding. Tongue licking. And his teeth…

Serena shuddered when the edge of his teeth grazed her flesh.

Her sex tightened and cream flooded between her folds.

She twisted beneath him, wanting to feel his naked skin against hers. “Dammit, too many clothes—” The words tumbled from her lips as she drew in ragged breaths.

He freed her hands as he reared back. His long, strong fingers caught the edge of her shirt. Jerked it over her head. The garment disappeared, tossed somewhere in the room—she had no idea where and didn’t care.

She’d put on a bra when she’d dressed. Now his fingers went to it, fumbling quickly with the front clasp. Then he was touching her, pushing the lacy cups aside and running those rough fingers over her flesh.

A moan fell from her lips. Her fingers found his shirt front, jerked it open and sent buttons flying across the bed.

His hands cupped her breasts. Teased. Fingertips caught her nipples, caressed, then his dark head lowered.

The warm, wet lap of his tongue sent a shock wave through her.

“Luis!
” Her nails skated down his chest. Power was in the air around them. Energy vibrating against her skin.

There was magic for a witch in sex. The renewing power of life, the blissful wonder of pleasure.

Just what she needed.

No,
he
was what she needed.

He pulled her breast into his mouth, laved her with his tongue. Suckled.

Her sex contracted and she arched her hips, rubbing against the bulging length of his arousal.

Flesh to flesh. That was how she wanted him—and how she would have him.

Her hands gripped his upper arms. Tested the muscles, then caressed the hot flesh of his chest as her hands began to trail down his body. His strong abs rippled beneath her fingertips. Damn, but the man was like some kind of perfect freaking statue.

Not a man.

More.

He freed her breast, lifted his head. “Serena…”

Such hunger. Raw lust.

She loved the way he said her name.

Her fingers caught the top of his jeans. Unhooked the button, eased down the zipper with fingers that shook with eagerness.

“Are you afraid?” He asked the question, his voice as demanding as the hands that were now stroking her flesh.

“No.” Right then, she couldn’t get close enough to him. Afraid?
Only that he’d stop.

Her vision wasn’t shifter strong, but she caught a glimpse of his smile. The flash of his teeth.

“Good answer.”

His hand slipped down her stomach, hesitated over her belly button. “I want to kiss you.”

Hadn’t he already? What—

He shifted his body, pulling back and bringing a cry of protest to her lips.

Then his mouth pressed against her stomach. His fingers eased open the top of her jeans, and he licked her. A long, slow lick right along her belly—and along the piercing she’d gotten as a birthday present just last year.

Her heels dug into the mattress and her thighs clenched around him.

“I can smell you,” he whispered, the words merging with the darkness. “So damn sweet.”

Her arousal.
She knew instantly what he meant, and the knowledge that he knew of her hunger only made her sex cream more.

“Get rid of the jeans,” she ordered, and meant hers, his. She’d never been one for too much foreplay—she loved the act of sex too much. The slide of bodies. The hard thrusts. The joining.

She wanted to join with Luis. To mate.

A growl shook his body and an answering moan rose in her throat. When his fingers pushed the denim completely off her hips and his breath fanned over the front of her panties, she arched toward him, ready—

White hot pain lanced her, burning, cutting into her upper arm, the agony so intense that she contorted, tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Sonofabitch!”

Luis stilled at once. “Serena?”

She clenched her teeth, trying to choke down the pain. It felt as if someone were cutting her arm. Driving a knife all the way to the bone and carving her flesh.

Not again. Goddess, no, not the second mark.

“Fuck!” The cry was Luis’s. He jerked away from her and shot from the bed. Chanted a spell of protection.

A spell that would do no good.

The lights flashed on in her room. Burning far too brightly. A burst of air tousled her hair.

The pain began to recede. Throbbing now, in time with the rapid beats of her heart.

She squeezed her eyes shut, needing to block out the light, and not wanting to look at her arm.

Because she knew exactly what she’d see.

A second mark meant her powers would be even more limited, dammit.

Who was doing this to her?

A feather-light touch upon her shoulder had her screaming, her eyes flashing open.

Luis stared at her, his face tense. Looking so fierce—as fierce and deadly as he’d appeared when she first summoned him.

“Are you all right?”

No.
She was most damn definitely not
all right.
Her life was spiraling out of her control. Some sick bastards were screwing with her and her coven, and a second binding mark meant her time was running far too low.

“When did the first mark appear?” Luis demanded.

Serena pulled in a slow breath. The passion she’d felt so deeply moments before was gone, erased by a tide of pain.

And rage.

“When the Blood Moon took the night.” Had it really been just a few nights before when the full moon had risen so powerfully into the sky?

And the first mark had appeared.

Steeling herself, Serena finally dropped her gaze to stare at the flesh of her upper arm. Already, the binding cut looked like a scar. Four inches long. The flesh raised, angry red.

Only one more mark to go, then the spell would be complete.

She would be as helpless as a human.

Luis’s fingers hovered over the mark, as if he wanted to touch her, but was afraid.

“It’s a warlock, you know.” He said the words softly.

Serena’s gaze was on her arm. “I know.” The throbbing continued. The aching flesh pulsed as she stared at the skin.
A warlock.

In the
Other
world, those who practiced their power in good faith—following the rule of
to harm none,
were termed witches or wizards.

But a witch who crossed that line, or a wizard who harmed innocents, well, then that person was given a new designation.

Warlock.

Shunned by the coven. Expelled from the magical community.

Alone to work the dark magic.

She’d known, of course, for only another witch would be able to work a binding spell. Demons didn’t have the power. Djinn couldn’t strip a witch of her magic.

No, it took one of her own to work spells like this.

A fact that made the betrayal all the harder to bear.

His fingers brushed over the marks. She sucked in a sharp breath, expecting the burning pain to flare to life again but—

But she felt a cool balm on her skin. The throbbing eased. The redness lightened.

Her eyes widened.

His head bent toward her and he pressed a kiss to the second wound, then the first.

The pain vanished.

Serena stared at him, stunned. He was the bringer of death, not a healer. “How the hell did you do that?”

He looked up at her through his lashes, his mouth poised over her arm.

A spark of remembered need had her shifting and realizing that she was mostly nude and that if she’d had but a few minutes more before that bastard had struck—

Well, she wouldn’t have been thinking about pain.

“I don’t just bring fear and terror, you know.” Another kiss, then he eased away. “I can also ease pain or…” His gaze dropped to her bared breasts. “Give pleasure.”

Oh, yeah, she’d gotten a firsthand sample of that
pleasure.
And she wanted more. Serena swallowed and jerked on her bra. She’d sure as hell like to just lie back with Luis and get a few more samples, but…“W-we’ve got to go after them.” The warlock and his charmer. “If the warlock marked me, he could be trying to mark the others—we have to go!”

Luis gave a grim nod but asked, “Are you certain you’re up to facing him?”

Like she was going to back down. “This is my life he’s fucking with so, hell, yeah, I’m ready.”

“Then we’ll fight now.” Again, a dark heat flashed in his eyes, “And later…”

We’ll fuck.

Yes, they both knew exactly what would happen later.

Damn. Damn. Damn.
He was going to make the bastard pay. He’d hunt him down, no, hunt
them
down, and make them beg for mercy.

Then he’d kill them.

Luis knew he was after a team of killers. Had to be a charmer working with a warlock. No way the charmer who controlled the black cat would be able to bind the witches on his own.

The memory of Serena’s pain-filled cry echoed in his mind. His hands clenched and magic snapped in the air around him.

Oh, yeah, those bastards would pay in blood.

He’d been seconds away from tasting the sweet cream between her thighs, then some assholes had fucked up his plans
and
hurt his witch.

Luis couldn’t wait for the fighting to begin. He was definitely in the mood to kick ass and send a few deserving paranormals straight to the next world.

“Stop!” He gave the order when Serena’s car turned the corner of Ruthers Lane.

The window on his side of the car was down. He’d been following the trail of the black cat—using his enhanced sense of smell to catch the feline’s scent. He’d also been tracking the taint of the dark magic that had hung heavily on the cat—a taint that, to his eyes, appeared as a fine mist in the air. A mist that led him straight to the small shop at the end of Ruthers Lane.

“Turn off the car,” he said.

Serena obeyed instantly. “Is this—is the warlock here?”

He wasn’t sure, but the cat had been there. The cat had gone inside the antique shop that boasted the sign,
HIDDEN TREASURES
.

Dawn had come, the sun rising and chasing away the shadows. They were on a small business street, one lined with curiosity shops and galleries. One that would soon be teeming with humans.

They’d have to move fast.

Luis turned to Serena, “Let’s—”

She shoved open her door and hopped outside.