In the Company of Witches (10 page)

“Ain’t none of us going to stand for all that fornicating,” she informed those potatoes and onions. “No, sirree, we won’t be anywhere near this house when that nonsense is going on. And we going to put Tabasco sauce on that naughty Luke’s unmentionables next time he lets that robe gap open at dinnertime to tease old Matilda. He’ll be dancing and howling like all you spirits do on All Saints’ Night. Just you watch.”

She was worth every penny of the exorbitant salary Raina paid to keep her.

Matilda was a perfect mesh for the house itself. Sometimes Raina scheduled a client for one particular playroom, only to discover that door locked when the time came, diverting them to another, more appropriate place. It didn’t happen often, for Raina was very good at reading her clients, but she’d learned to respect powers greater than herself to override certain decisions. The house also had its own mind about opening and closing doors and windows, so door locks were fairly useless…unless the house wanted to lock the door. Whether the decisions came from the ghosts that still lingered in the old house or the nature of the magic that saturated it, she and her staff took it in stride.

Today the house apparently wanted the doors to the back garden thrown wide-open. It was funneling a pleasant breeze into the dining room by moving the panels in and out in a slow, fanlike motion, like children hanging on to the knobs, rocking the panels back and forth. Mikhael not only seemed unconcerned about that; he also appeared indifferent to the obvious shunning of her staff. Their gazes would dart toward him if he so much as lifted his coffee cup to his lips, but then just as quickly dart away.

When he scraped back his chair, he caused a synchronized jump, like a flock of birds startling, but he paid no attention, turning it to the side so he could put his ankle on his knee, lay an elbow on the table by his plate. Occasionally, he took another bite from a croissant or piece of bacon before he folded back a page. He was wearing his jeans from last night, with a shirt this time. The shirt was carelessly closed, just two buttons in the middle, and his feet were bare, his hair attractively tousled. Positively mouthwatering. And disgustingly effortless.

No woman looked that good without trying. In action movies, when the hero was grungy, bloody and in torn clothes, he looked absolutely edible. Lara Croft, in the same situation, had to have perfect makeup and hair, clothes fitted to best advantage, with just a little stage makeup for the dirt and blood, an artful rip to the tight T-shirt. Otherwise, a woman rolled in the dirt looked like…well, a woman rolled in the dirt.

And she didn’t even want to get started on men’s ability to metabolize food. Her succubi and incubi didn’t have any problems in that area, but with her half-human blood, Raina had to be careful not to pack on too many pounds. Eyeing Mikhael with his carb and grease breakfast, Raina concluded women’s attraction to men was an involuntary chemical thing, because there were just too many reasons to hate them with a homicidal intensity.

Who and what was a Dark Guardian, really? She knew they served the Underworld for all eternity. They weren’t highly favored by Light Guardians like Derek. Dark Guardians were a puzzle to them. Why was there a need for an Underworld legion to ensure the balance of Dark against the Light, when the Dark seemed so prevalent without help? Of course, Dark Guardians weren’t the PR sort, readily volunteering the reasons for their existence.

But a man was more than what he did for a living, even if he didn’t think so. She was in the business of knowing the soul below the surface. Did he truly not mind that no one was sitting with him, or had he gotten so used to being alone in the many years that he’d done what he did, that he didn’t think about it anymore?

Of course when he wasn’t serving Lucifer’s purposes, babysitting an incubus thief, waiting for a female demon to show up at a remote Southern bordello, he might be a big party animal, getting wasted at keg parties and hooking up with trashy women.

Yeah, right.

Coming into the room at last, she passed her people first, transferring Cathair to Li. She touched shoulders, asked how their night was. Despite their bravado, there was some uncertainty about Mikhael’s presence, so she calmed the more shy or nervous ones. Her newer staff members were like young cats, hyperalert to threats.

Li was the leader of the group. The oldest at twenty-six, he was the one who would reinforce her reassurances with the others. He was also intuitive enough to discern her night had been a little more entertaining than usual.

The protections on her bedroom tower maintained privacy as well as safety, and Mikhael had reinforced those during their encounter, which meant no sound or evidence should have disturbed the rest of the house. However, physical evidence was hard to hide. Li’s handsome Asian eyes sharpened, registering the relaxed movements of a woman well sated. His slim black brows rose, his sensual lips quirking in barely contained curiosity. He would want details as soon as he could corner her. Lots of them.

Not likely. She was still wrapping her own mind around it.

The youngest sex demons sat the farthest from Mikhael, the others a buffer between them. Gina was one of the former, sitting next to Marisa. Gina didn’t take clients yet, because she was still mastering the basics of working with Raina’s protections so the client could have a pleasurable experience without hospitalization or a morgue. Right now, she and Marisa worked as a team and Marisa fed the younger girl from her offerings. Enough male clients wanted a three-way with two beautiful women that Marisa could tutor her at the same time she nourished her.

Isaac sat on the other side of Gina, sandwiched between Luke and Isabella, good choices. Though all of her staff had been with her at least two years, with Li being the longest at six years, Luke had come most recently and could give Isaac the male perspective on his situation. Isabella could make any male, human or incubi, her devoted slave in no time.

The appeal of sex demons in the paid companionship trade was the lack of artifice. They genuinely enjoyed carnality, in all its offerings and varieties, the same way mortals enjoyed a wide array of meals, the different flavors and textures.

She’d trained them to respond appropriately to the emotional reactions of the clients to enhance and deepen the experience for both of them. Because that increased the quality of the nourishment for them as well, they followed the instruction well. Though it required enormous spellwork to keep those interactions safe, she didn’t mind it. While she knew they viewed her as their protector, like a tribal priestess, they also had fun, played together. They were bonded, as close to a family as was possible for their kind.

The way her life had been, she didn’t spend a lot of time berating what she couldn’t have. She was thankful for the abilities to have what she did. She hadn’t waited for those abilities to come to her, either. She’d honed them to what they were now, and she kept working on them, devoting time each week to accumulating more energy and knowledge. Inertia was an indulgence she couldn’t afford in her world. Later today, she would find a quiet space to do that spellwork to check for weaknesses, not because anything was amiss, but because she knew the dangers of complacency. Isaac’s presence meant that there might be a new danger on the horizon besides.

For now, though, she was sleeping with a cop, so she felt like she could take an hour to enjoy brunch. Picking a plate off the sidebar, she chose a few things she liked. Chocolate-dipped strawberries, fresh peach preserves in a fragrant marinade poured over a fluffy biscuit.

Mikhael had pushed out the chair at the head of the table so he could prop his foot on it, resting the paper against his bent knee. His shoes were tucked under the chair, so he’d removed them before putting his feet on the furniture. He had manners, of a sort. It was like watching the lord of a manor make free use of his belongings. Because they were his, he wasn’t abusive of them, but he expected certain amounts of accommodating service from them.

Perching on the chair where he had his foot braced, she sat down on his toes, drawing up her feet, smoothing her satin dressing gown so it pooled around her ankles and slid across the arch of his foot, nearly covering it. She considered following the same track with a caress of that ankle, the calf beneath the cuff of the jeans. He’d shaved. Earlier this morning, she’d felt the appealing sandpaper brush of his jaw as he kissed the bumps of her spine. She’d liked that, but she also liked the sharp, clean aristocratic look now.

Vaguely she remembered opening her eyes to see him shaving at her mirror. He’d been using a sharp-bladed knife that looked like it could gut a small mammal, but the sharp edge moved smooth and sure over his face under his steady hand. She thought about doing that for him, sitting naked on the sink, passing that lethal blade near his throat, his eyes tracking her, hands sliding over her hips, up to her breasts…

He continued reading his article without acknowledging her. Not entirely perfect manners after all. Considering the things on her plate, she picked up a juicy blueberry. Flicked it with precision so it hit him square in the forehead.

Or would have, if he hadn’t caught it in a movement too fast for her to see. Setting it aside, he lifted his gaze to her. Everything from last night came back when she met that look. Every detail, every touch, every cry that he’d torn from her. She saw where they’d been together, the journey they’d taken, and that he very much intended it would happen again. Perhaps even on this table in the next thirty seconds.

All her body could say was a fervent, almost evangelical
yes. Amen and hallelujah.

“I wouldn’t advise doing that again,” he said.

She looked at the dozen blueberries on her plate, then back at him. “It’s polite to acknowledge a lady when she comes to the table. Particularly if you shared her bed the night before.”

“My apologies. Good morning. How did you sleep?”

She felt the impossible—her cheeks warmed. Now that she’d arrived and they had more confidence to be their usual selves, her staff had increased the volume of their conversation. However, she caught several fascinated stares from those who registered her reaction. It wasn’t her fault. The man had sex and sin dripping from every syllable he spoke. “I slept just fine, thank you. And you?”

“The bed was too short. But the company made up for it.”

“If you have to inflict your charming personality on us another night, I’m sure we can find you a larger bed. One that you’ll have all to yourself.” There. She’d made it clear any future interactions were by her invitation only. If he was gone tonight, it wouldn’t matter, anyhow. Everything back to normal, the way it should be.

He didn’t respond to that statement, just took a sip of coffee. He preferred it straight black, and he’d gone for their strongest Colombian blend. The residuals on his plate suggested he was a heavy eater, but not on the sweet side. He went for the salts: bacon, eggs, toast, no preserves. She liked a man who didn’t compete with her chocolate cravings.

“Surprised to see Isaac here this morning,” he noted.

“Sex demons are pack animals, in a sense. They feel more comfortable in a group, when a group’s available. I don’t think he’s had that for a while.”

“Hmm. I meant I was surprised to see him up this early.”

“True.” She bit into a strawberry. “He had a busy night, fleeing from a homicidal maniac.”

“And stealing from the Underworld,” Mikhael responded.

“He took it because they threatened him.”

“A person has a choice to do wrong or right. He had avenues. He could have told someone.”

“Who could he have told? Do you know what it’s like to live the life he’s led?”

She lowered her voice. Marisa was teaching Isaac how to thumb wrestle, which was creating a wave of giggles at the end of the table, but Raina didn’t want a stray word to catch their attention, or Isaac’s. “Most sex demons live on the fringes. Half-wild, and they don’t trust anyone. They’re hunted by opportunists or those like you, charged to punish them for trying to survive. They have to feed to live.”

“Balance in this world depends a great deal on human ignorance. Every preternatural species knows that. Yours respect the boundaries. But even outside these walls, there are plenty of pleasure demons who show discretion and moderation. He’s not one of those.”

“He’s young. He doesn’t know any better. He can learn, if given the chance.”

Turning a page, Mikhael perused the sports section. The staff paused, confirmed that he wasn’t preparing to eat one of them, and returned to their antics.

“Or he’s too far gone on it, and a lost cause,” Mikhael responded.

Raina blinked. Mikhael wasn’t turned toward them, but he’d timed his response to their attention perfectly. It gave her a chilling idea of how good a hunter he was. Patient, never losing focus. He’d notice the bend of one blade of grass in a meadow if a ladybug landed on it.

“You’re being sensitive to their anxiety about you. Why?”

“Because I’m charming. You just said so.” He flashed his canines, that nonsmile of his that still managed to do strange things to her knees.

“That was sarcasm.”

“If they become agitated, they’ll interrupt my reading. As well as my brunch.”

“I’m interrupting it.”

“I don’t consider you an interruption. Much.” He glanced down at her blueberries, still poised to become projectiles. “Raina, your hope for his rehabilitation is a projection of your experience, not his. He’s been marked by dark elements who will continue to use him; if not this female demon, the next one who comes along, and the next one. He’s dug himself a hole, and it’s a grave. If it’s not at my hand, it will be at the hand of another.”

“He’s not a lost cause.” She stared him down. Of course, he didn’t blink. “He’s not harming anyone here, and I can teach him a better way. I’ll talk to him again today. He’ll be more helpful after having a good night’s sleep and spending time with the others.”

“I think you’ve gotten all the information that’s going to be useful. He took it; he’s hidden it; a demon is going to come after him to find it. When she does, I will find out where the stolen object is and deal with that as well. Two birds with one well-aimed volcanic blast that will leave a crater in your front yard.”