In the Company of Witches (23 page)

Males. Incorrigible, the whole lot of them.

Curling into her quilts, she shut her eyes. Even without her special chamomile mix that Gina kindly left steaming by her bedside, she was asleep in five minutes.

She knew better than to go to sleep without drinking it, but it had been a good evening. No reason to worry about monsters from the past, but that was when they struck, right?

The dream started out wonderfully enough. Mikhael was there, his magnificent body, his scent—probably filtering to her from his shirt—those intense eyes. He was in her bed, pushing her back into the quilts, his hands on her thighs. When he shifted his grip to her wrists, she saw a set of black manacles hanging above her. Manacles wet with her blood, from her struggles when she went mad from the confinement. They were suspended from the top of the narrow metal box in which Elceus hung her like meat when he wanted to prove a point. That he could do whatever the hell he wanted to do to her.

She was a witch. She didn’t let her dreams take control of her. “No,” she snarled, ripping her hands free. The agony was an echo of what it had been. “You’re gone. Dead. You can’t keep me trapped here anymore.”

She bolted out of the dream. The wind of her agitation swept through her room, dousing the candles, plunging her into full darkness. The French doors to the balcony slammed back, making her leap away from the bed, spinning into a corner to fight whatever came at her.

“Easy.”

A flame struck, and she whirled toward it, fists raised. Mikhael relit one of the candles with that brief spark, sat it back down in its holder. He’d been out on the property. She could smell the salt of the marsh on him, the night air, and there were some pale oleander petals on his shoulders, looking like tiny teardrops from the moon.

“You all right?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. Rubbed her forehead, then wrapped her arms around herself, taking comfort in that shirt, the one part of the dream that had stuck. He took a step toward her.

“I rescued myself,” she said. “I don’t need to be rescued.”

“Do I look like the first number on the damsel-in-distress speed dial?”

She saw a lot of things when she looked at him. “You stir things up,” she said. It wasn’t an accusation. Her mind was just as responsible for resurrecting the bastard in her dreams.

“I can calm them down, too.”

She raised her attention back to his face. No, he might not be the first on speed dial. But he’d been here when she woke from her nightmare, when he could have been a hundred other places. She’d never had anyone there when she woke from a nightmare. Crossing the space of her attic room, she walked into his arms. Goddess, he was warm. Strong.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” she asked against his heartbeat.

“Of course not. It’s unmanly to dream about harpies tying you down to eat your privates and skin you alive. Even more unmanly to wake up screaming like a little girl. So, no. Absolutely, no.”

Nestling her cheek against that broad chest, she continued to listen to the strong, rhythmic thump of his heart. He bent, lifted her in his arms and took her back to the bed, lying down with her. “Sleep,” he murmured. “No more nightmares getting past me.”

He didn’t ask her for details, didn’t make her talk. He probably knew the shape of every nightmare that anyone had ever had. He just held her.

O
N THE RARE OCCASION SHE HAD NIGHTMARES, SHE
usually didn’t sleep the rest of the night. This time, she didn’t remember much after two or three minutes in Mikhael’s arms. When she woke, sun was streaming in through the open French doors, and there was a note on the pillow next to her.

Our ride arrives at ten. Move that sexy ass or no ice cream for you. Wear something I’ll like.

Since he’d promised he’d provide the dampening spell that would keep her from causing four-car pileups in town, and he was a big, bad Dark Guardian, she was happy to test the strength of his spellwork—and his self-control. She donned a pair of snug jeans, low-heeled boots and a pale gold knit top with a rolled off-the-shoulder neckline. The top hugged her curves just like the jeans. The styles were sharp, tailored and classy, but maximized all of her assets so she was guaranteed to cause an erection at a hundred-yard distance. Unless Mikhael did his job, which meant only his cock would be affected. She looked forward to seeing that.

Putting emerald and gold studs in her double-pierced ears, she clipped her unruly hair back and donned bangle bracelets that gave her a touch of whimsy. Cathair landed on his perch and regarded her with bright eyes.

“Move your ass, wench,”
he informed her.

“I’m going to turn his testicles into golf balls and use a five iron on them,” she promised herself, giving her familiar a gimlet eye. “You stop encouraging him.”

Cathair chirped. She came and stroked his head, bent to let him rub his beak along the corner of her mouth, a quick buss that always made her smile. “The perimeter’s reinforced, but stay here, keep an eye on things. Find me if there’s trouble.”

“Always trouble. Trouble, trouble, trouble. Headed toward trouble.”

“With a smile on my face.” She flicked a scarf at him as he ruffled his feathers and imitated a sneeze.

When she reached the main floor, she didn’t expect to see her staff awake and at the windows. Most were still wearing their pajamas, which suggested one had come down to pilfer a snack and discovered something that sent them all tumbling down here like excited puppies. Even the usually indifferent Matilda was pushed in between Saul and Ana. Luke gave the cook a wide and wary berth.

Glancing over his shoulder, Li gave a low wolf whistle, bringing the others around as well. “Pulling out the whole arsenal, aren’t you?”

She tossed her hair with exaggerated sex appeal. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gina giggled. “He’s pulled out his arsenal as well. It’s a horse, but not a horse, Raina. There’s magic around it.
Fae
magic.”

Raina knew her own eyes widened a little bit at that, but she reached for the doorknob. She would not be caught goggling out the window.

Saul gave her a wink. “Remember, you’re not impressed at all. Make him work for it.”

“Work those jeans as well,” Ana advised. “Make him slobber at your feet like a hound.”

“You all can go back to bed,” she said reprovingly. “I don’t want to see any dark circles under your eyes when entertaining tonight.”

Still, an almost girlish smile played around her lips as she opened the door. No matter her earlier, darker thoughts, it was hard to resist the drug of infatuation.

God and Goddess, they were right. Mikhael leaned against the old-fashioned hitching post on the front lawn. It was an affectation, except right now he could have put it to functional use. Well, maybe not. Raina didn’t think the creature with him would consent to being tethered in any way. The black horse was taller than Mikhael and wide of chest, all rippling, gleaming muscle. The scent of the shore hit her immediately, his origins evidenced by the seaweed and shells tangled in his long mane. The only tack he wore was a short saddle pad cinched in place. As Ana had said, there was an
otherness
to the creature, in the way the crimson eyes appraised her, like human male eyes. When he shifted, she noticed the hooves sparked against the ground, magic escaping from the simple movement.

Everything she knew about magical creatures said she was looking at a kelpie, a creature rumored to shift into a human form to seduce a woman onto his back. Or it could stay in horse form and coax children up there, only to gallop into a body of water and drown them. Hopefully those were vicious rumors put out by anti-kelpie hate groups.

Mikhael’s eyes coursed over her. He lingered over thigh and hip, enjoyed an especially long pause on her breasts, then moved up to her throat and face. “Turn,” he said.

He was so good at those one-word commands, the ones that made her pulse trip. She gave him an arch look and pivoted, shifting her hips to good effect as she came back around.

“Are you wearing anything under those jeans?”

“A lace thong,” she said. “Denim seams chafe.”

“You don’t dress like you want to go to town,” he noted. “In fact, I’m thinking of at least ten things that could keep us right here.”

“I’m sure most of them are illegal, and you know I strive to be a law-abiding citizen. Besides, these are my going-out clothes. Are you backing out?” The thought was disappointing, almost crushingly so. She wanted to go to town with a lover, flirt and play with him. He’d all but promised, and if she had to get petulant about it, she would.

“Mmm.” There was a glint in his eye. “I might have to expand the scope of my spell to cover the things I’ll be tempted to do to you in public.”

“Think you’re a powerful enough sorcerer for that?”

“If I wanted to fuck you senseless on the steps of town hall, the good citizens would be none the wiser. Is that powerful enough for you?” That glint became even more devilish. “Of course, knowing you, you wouldn’t mind them catching a glimpse.”

She tsked at him. “A gentleman caller doesn’t use bad language around a lady.”

“No one has ever called me a gentleman. And if we’re going to work on manners, I think we’ll start on yours.” He glanced at the horse. “This is Atlas. Since he’s a kelpie, part of your whole energy-sucking clan, your blood won’t upset him.”

The creature snorted, gave her that appraising look again, only this time Mikhael made a noise, an unmistakable warning. It set off a strange fluttering in her chest to see Mikhael staking his territory against another male. One would think being used as a demon’s sex slave during her formative years, turning tricks and then running a bordello would have completely stamped out her romantic side. But she loved
Titanic
as much as ever.

This was just a day with a casual lover, she reminded herself. But so far it was a really good day. “Aren’t kelpies the ones who drown people?”

“He has the day off from that.” Taking a handful of mane, Mikhael swung on in one lithe move. “And he owed me a favor.”

Atlas gave a snort as if that was only a partial truth, and lifted his feet off the ground, cutting a circle that lashed Mikhael’s leg with his tail. It was a pretty display, but also a fairly intimidating one. However, Raina had never backed away from an intimidating male in her life. She wasn’t going to start now. When Mikhael extended his hand, she approached without hesitation. The warm approval in his eyes made her feel ridiculously pleased.

As Mikhael lifted her up, settling her on his lap, the smell of the ocean became even stronger. She wondered if she would hear its song if she laid her head against Atlas’s neck, like listening to a conch shell.

“I admit it,” she said. “I’m impressed. Even better than the Ferrari.”

“This is the Ferrari, with attitude.”

“You seem to like attitude,” she teased, sliding her arm beneath his to curve it around his back and hold on. The other hand she placed on his, curled in Atlas’s mane. The seaweed and shells were wet. Interesting.

“So it would seem.” Putting his other arm around her waist, he secured her close to him. “He likes to start out with a bang, but he’ll slow down after he feels like he’s awed you enough. I won’t let you fall.”

“Of course you won’t.” She drank in the energy. For all intents and purposes, she was on a horse. “Can we run? I want to see what it’s like to gallop.”

Mikhael gave her an intent look, eyes showing his deep pleasure at her enthusiasm. She needed to carry oxygen when he was around.

“You heard the lady, Atlas. Show her what it’s like to ride the wind.”

A
TLAS TOOK OFF, A HAZE OF SPARKS SHOWERING OFF
his mane and those sparks jetting from under his hooves, licking her ankles with the after burn. He moved down her drive like nothing in the world could stop him. Mikhael held his seat with strong thighs and kept her close, so she relaxed and moved with the motions of his body and the horse. She let her head fall against his chest, turning her face to the wind. Trusting him, she let go of the mane and his arm, reaching out to it with both hands.

For a moment, she knew just how Rose felt on the prow of
Titanic
.

She laughed into that wind, felt it blow through her clothes, caress her skin. The roar of its passing, the thunder of Atlas’s hooves, Mikhael’s breath against her temple, it was a rushing symphony and she wanted to twirl in it like a butterfly. When Mikhael called to Atlas to ease up, and they moved into a canter, then a trot, she was grinning like a fool.

“That was incredible,” she said. “Can I…Is he okay with being stroked?”

“Most males are.”

She made a face at him, aware he was looking at her like a creature he’d never seen before, but she didn’t care. Her hair was probably a tangled thicket, and her shirt now had horse hair on it. It didn’t matter a bit. She stroked her fingers along Atlas’s neck. “Thank you. That was marvelous.”

He snorted, sidled into a prancing strut. She bit back a smile. The male animal was always the same, no matter the species. “He obviously speaks our language.”

“Kelpies understand all languages, regardless of the origins. Don’t know where they got that ability, but they probably pleased a Fae queen somewhere along the line and she gave them that gift. Or it was part of a curse. Fae like to do that. Give a gift that comes with a high cost. They’re masters at the balance game themselves, though they’re a bit more capricious about it.”

“Is he coming into town with us? You’ll really have to expand your shield on us then.” She tugged on the mane, teasing the kelpie, such that he did some more sidling to delight her.

Mikhael snorted. “Pull my hair, see where it gets you.”

She made a grab to do just that and he caught her arm, twisting it behind her back. He did it gently, but with enough strength that it arched her up to him. Taking a biting kiss of her lips, he teased her mouth, stroking her tongue with his until her body quivered. “You’re irresistible,” he said.

She told herself he was a charming lover, but Mikhael wasn’t charming at all. He was honest, which had an appeal all its own. So she touched his face, not sure how to respond. Her, a madam who’d received slews of suggestive compliments.