Witch Interrupted (20 page)

He hadn’t thought of Elisa when he’d rushed out the door this morning. He’d thought only of Katie. “If you present a rescue plan with a measurable chance of success, I’ll consider it,” he conceded. “Until then, can we stick to our original agreement, the one that doesn’t end up with both of us dead?”

For the briefest moment, he thought she might smile. Or cry again. Instead she said, voice raw, “Did you really think I wasn’t coming back? Where else would I go? I’m not fool enough to think I can tackle Lars alone.”

“It would instill more confidence in me if you didn’t dupe me every chance you get.”

“Fine.” But her tone left no doubt in his mind it wasn’t fine.

Marcus ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. This wasn’t the morning-after conversation he’d envisioned in the wake of last night’s revelation. He’d imagined shared excitement, like sunlight breaking through clouds. He’d imagined cohesion as they expanded their knowledge of how she was using wolf magic—and how he could access his witch.

He’d imagined a lot of sex.

Instead, they were completely at odds again and he wasn’t sure, no matter how concerned he was about her welfare, that he could trust her. Ever.

Whenever he relaxed his guard, she cheated. She lied and tricked and conned. She felt remorse only when circumstances didn’t work out to her liking, if then. She might not be evil, but her nature was fundamentally deceptive.

But still. What must it be like on the other side of her loyalty? To be part of her family? Would he consider her deceptive if everything she did was for him instead of against him?

It didn’t matter. She was too hard and too angry and too broken. She’d never let him in.

And he didn’t need her to. He only needed her magic.

“That’s settled, then. Did you happen to find your own bag in the Dumpster?” He took the leather satchel of tattoo supplies from the couch. Now that he could maintain tats, one of Katie’s permabrands might be advantageous…if he wanted to let her near him with a tattoo needle.

“I packed another one.”

“I’m going to have to search it.”

“I don’t care.”

“And I have to search you.”

“I really don’t care.” She rose, walked stiffly into the kitchen and yanked a duffel off the counter. When he followed her, she pelted it at him. “Want to check for monkshood?”

Why did she look so offended? She’d mickeyed him several times already. Granted, she hadn’t tried to kill him, but they both knew what she could do. “Later.”

Next she threw the keys at him as if they were a grenade. “I assume you insist on driving?”

He did. As it happened, she didn’t care.

“Why does this feel so incredibly familiar? Seriously, Marcus, I’m not in the mood.” Aggravated, Katie batted at the wolf when he came to unlock her handcuff. “Give it a rest tonight. I’m not going anywhere.”

Probably.

As soon as they’d returned from the tattoo parlor, he’d searched her and her bag. There had been no monkshood, of course. She didn’t know how she felt about Marcus, but his death wasn’t part of the picture.

Next he’d run a battery of tests involving her alpha ability and her five senses that purportedly measured her access to wolf magic. After that, he’d secured her to the bed and proceeded to ignore her while he mucked around with his computer.

She didn’t care. And she really, really wasn’t in the mood for sex tests.

She thought about kicking him, but she wasn’t ready to antagonize him that much yet. He unclasped the handcuffs—still not using the key, she noticed—and helped her unnecessarily off the bed. “Do you really think I want to screw around when I just found out my father, Tonya and Vern are probably dead?”

Putting it into words for the first time knotted her throat. She’d concentrated on revenge scenarios today, not wanting to blubber in front of Marcus. What would be the most satisfying way to kill Lars? Shooting, magicking, stabbing, poisoning, steamrolling, drowning, woodchoppering—she’d imagined enacting them all and it failed to comfort her.

Needless to say, she didn’t think there was anything the wolf could do to make her want sex with him.

Possibly if he told her how he had a foolproof plan to kill Lars. She’d gladly hop into bed with the man who loved her enough to… No, the man who could give her that. It had nothing to do with love.

Marcus regarded her with a frown. “They’re not dead. Or at least your father and Tonya aren’t.”

“You know this how? Did you contact Lars when I wasn’t listening?” Death and suffering were constant companions for keepers. Taken from their families as soon as their magic emerged—or dumped on the council like trash—their ties to loved ones withered. Keepers never juggled this crippling attachment and grief.

Katie had grown back into love, inch by inch, as she and her father had come to know one another again. Now their bond was stronger than ever and included Tonya in the tight, devoted circle. As for Vern, he’d been instrumental enough in saving everyone’s life that she felt a significant obligation to him as well.

“Of course I didn’t contact Lars.” He didn’t blink, just watched her.

“Then how do you figure Ba and Tonya are alive?”

“Since you’ve been with them since your disappearance, Lars may assume you developed familial loyalty. He’ll hold off killing Zhang Li and Tonya in case he gets to kill them in front of you.”

“Now that is a lovely image.” Despite her sarcasm, the knot in her throat eased enough for tears to quit threatening. He was right. There was a good chance they were alive. Marcus had promised to consider rescue schemes. If he weren’t a basically decent person, that wouldn’t be the case. “You’re so romantic. I’m ready for the sex now.”

“Good. Undress.” He checked the locks and wards on the front door, remaining between her and the exit as if he expected her to bolt. “Showers first.”

“I was kidding.” She slid her glasses up her nose so she could see his face better. Was he smirking? “I’m not ready and not going to be ready.”

“Would you prefer I lie to you? Seduce you?”

“Do you have a diagram for that?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He crossed his arms. “Lying and seducing are your province, not mine. You asked me about your family, and I answered honestly. It would hardly inconvenience Lars to imprison two amnesiac witches. No one but you will be looking for them. In fact, I daresay he might order a few experiments and—”

“Shut up.” Marcus had an uphill battle getting her into bed tonight. If he forced the issue, she didn’t want to know how her turncoat body would respond.

But she did know how he would respond to certain types of questions. He might enjoy research, but there was another thing he enjoyed just as much.

Talking about research.

“After this afternoon’s tests, do you still think I’m half wolf?”

He frowned at her, as if uncertain whether her interest was genuine. It was, but mostly she was stalling. “Your sensory input remains within non-wolf parameters. Your minor alpha ability is the only difference between you and another witch.”

In his morning tests, he’d included several requests for her to “push” him to do things. She’d failed to budge him, though she could sense the aptitude lurking inside her like a half-cast spell—a whisper, not a roar.

“What’s on tap for tonight theory-wise?” she asked, stalling more.

Still hovering between her and the door, he picked up his smart phone and swiped to access his notes. “Tonight we’ll analyze whether your ability to access your wolf increases during intimacy. Sexual relations with a wolf shifter stimulate that side of a witch’s psyche until the wolf overwhelms. This we’ve known for eons. I believe an alpha’s increased strength helps them withstand the inundation of the lattice. The wolf simply becomes another tool in your arsenal. The more we kindle it, the stronger it will be.”

They’d confirmed that the new thread she’d used to access her wolf magic, the alpha influence, was comparable to other threads in her lattice. Marcus said if he hadn’t been a lattice researcher he might not have noticed. She sure as hell couldn’t tell it apart.

“You’re getting better, Professor. I understood most of that.” If she exercised the speck of wolf inside her, could she do more, like Marcus believed? “Let’s wait until I have more magic to spare. This time next week, I’ll be flush. I can cast all the chi spells you want.”

“We’re not postponing sex for a week. We’re having it tonight. Now.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I trust you at full power.”

“You’re keeping me drained on purpose?” Drained and chained. It would be humiliating if she didn’t understand his motivations. As it was, it just reiterated his lack of trust. “You do realize I’ll begin to refill faster, right? My combat bonus may already have been kickstarted.”

“Take off your clothes,” Marcus said, not answering her question. “We have work to do.”

She removed her glasses, but instead of setting them on the table, as if preparing to undress, she rubbed them on her shirt. He should at least try to be seductive. “What about next time?”

Though his words had revealed his impatience, his tone remained even. “Since wolf magic is what overwhelms a non-alpha witch, next time we’ll supersaturate me with witch magic. My hope is that it will return me to witch state or provoke an optimal dual state where the witch and wolf lattices combine.”

She’d never passed her magic to a witch who wasn’t a spell focal. She wasn’t even sure it was possible. His theories, pretty on the screen, seemed like facts their ancestors would already have hammered out. Granted, it had stunned everyone five years ago that witches who were resistant to transformation existed beyond rumors. But a wolf turning into a witch?

Marcus was operating on a pipe dream. It wasn’t bloody likely that miracles would occur, angels would sing and his magic would come orgasming back to him. Nothing that positive ever happened to her or anyone connected to her.

She merely had to remember where Dad and Tonya were right now to confirm that. She brought misery and destruction wherever she went. She didn’t need scientific method to prove it.

“I know you’re probably thinking about Harry Travis right now,” Marcus said, as if it had any sort of logical connection to their conversation.

“Amazingly, I am not.” She was thinking about Lars’s methods of torture and how she’d like to return the favor. Which settled things, in her mind. There was no way she was going to be in the mood to have sex tonight.

“You’re probably asking,” Marcus continued, “why isn’t Harry a witch? I can answer that. When we last spoke, he and his wife weren’t attempting to convert him into a witch. I proposed it, but neither was receptive.”

“The nerve. They didn’t want to have a threesome with you?”

He huffed. “That’s not what I suggested. Either way, I’m focusing on transformed wolves,” he said with a glimmer of humor, “and I’m unaware if June has wolf magic. I can’t assume she does simply because you do.”

That hadn’t occurred to her. “No?”

He inspected her from head to toe, leaving her wondering what he saw. Scruffy, depressed malcontent in desperate need of an army and open season on one Hiram Lars? Because that was how she felt. “I gather there’s a theory you’re just that perverse.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “Thanks.”

“Now, if you’re finished delaying, could we continue?”

“What if I refuse?”

He stared at her, and she stared back. Tension filled the air and sang in her ears like the whine of the Airstream’s generator.

“I’d rather not find out.”

Hell.
A sour feeling in her stomach, she stripped off her clothes and tossed them as messily as she could onto his office chair. He’d already turned away to tap on his phone.

“I’m having the first shower,” she declared. He didn’t answer. With a grimace, she stalked to the tiny cubicle and twisted on the pitiful spray of water.

When she tried to close the curtain behind her, he stopped her.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

“Surprising you.” Curtain still open, he watched as the tepid trickle splattered on her head. “I’m turning off the water in thirty seconds.”

Katie grimaced but decided it wasn’t worth arguing. She angled herself under the weak spray, wetting her hair and skin.

The shower curtain rustled. She opened her eyes to see Marcus’s beautiful bare ass as he set his neatly folded clothing on the toilet. He turned, and of course she checked out his package. Large even when flaccid, his cock and scrotum nestled in dark curls. He reached toward her. She froze, but he grabbed a bar of soap instead of her.

He stuck the soap and a washcloth under the dribble of water. “Five seconds left.”

Halfheartedly, Katie tousled her hair to be sure it was wet. Marcus twisted the faucet off.

“Is this a shower or a peep show?” She held out her hand for the soap. Did he think she wouldn’t wash behind her ears?

However, instead of handing it over, he rubbed the washcloth up her arm.

“Wait just a hairy minute.” She backed against the thin interior wall, but there was nowhere to go. Her shoulder bonked the faucet handle. “I’m capable of a big-girl bath all by myself.”

He caught her wrist and scrubbed up to her shoulder. “It’s no trouble.”

The stall was so small that when he stepped over the cubicle lip, his body almost touched hers. The soapy-rough washcloth crossed her chest and headed down her other arm. Rattled, Katie could do nothing but gape as Marcus lathered her forearm and then her hand, paying special attention to her fingers.

For no reason she could understand, his precision woke a flutter of arousal in her. He washed between her fingers. Her palm. Her body piqued. He didn’t miss an inch, and she suspected that attention would translate…elsewhere.

At that thought, she goose bumped all over, in spite of the heat of his body breathing down her neck. Literally.

“You’re cold. I’ll go fast.” The washrag traveled along the underside of her arm and across her breasts. She glanced at his face, but he appeared to be deep in concentration. “Hands up.”

Slowly, she raised her arms. Bubbles trickled down them, onto her ribs. He washed her stomach and then up, catching her other armpit. His skin wasn’t touching her, only the cloth, but she could feel the firm pressure of his hand steering it.

“Turn,” he said.

Steering her too. When she rotated, she deliberately pressed her bare hip to his lower half, where she hadn’t dared look again.

He went from semi-hard to rock hard in the time it took her to obey him.

“Ah-ah.” He nudged her away from him. “Don’t distract me.”

He didn’t want to be distracted, did he? He shouldn’t have admitted that. She wasn’t going to strike up a conversation about science, either.

Katie rested against the wall, plotting, while Marcus circled the washrag on her shoulders and back. Her breasts pushed against the glossy fiberglass. Her toes curled against the plastic floor, where the cooling water drained.

“Don’t use your alpha ability until I request it,” he said as he washed her.

“Okay.” She half meant it too.

His ministrations reached the small of her back before the washrag disappeared. He twisted on the water and angled it at her head. “Thirty seconds.”

He draped the washcloth over her shoulder. Katie rubbed her front, knowing he was watching, and lifted her breasts into the stream. Water trickled between them. She added a shimmy for good measure. “Can you get my back?”

He hesitated, but his bare hands, his fingers, stroked her curves through the suds. Katie bit back a sigh. The soapy water trailed between her buttocks, tickling and popping. When he reached around her to clean the suds off her front, she leaned against him.

Yes. Full contact. His slick, hot body towered over her, his cock rubbing suggestively. His big hands cupped her breasts and pulled her tighter against him. He closed his fingers on the tips as the water rained down her front.

Funny—that part of her was already rinsed.

He twisted her nipples. Pleasure shot from her breasts to her pussy. She wriggled her ass, and his cock jerked. He hissed through his teeth. Whatever reluctance she’d felt about sleeping with Marcus again—however he wanted her—disappeared.

“Grab the top of the stall.” His voice had roughened, revealing his involvement.

She thought about disobeying. She didn’t like him assuming he could boss her around, in bed or out of it. At the same time, it might be better to save the clash of wills for something major. Sex could take her mind off her cares temporarily.

He turned the water off, and his voice rumbled in her ear. “Katie, I gave you an order.”

“Is it for science?”

“Of course.” Which was not what she wanted to hear. “Everything I require of you has a documented purpose. Grab the top of the stall or there will be consequences.”