In the Company of Witches
Page 12

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.”
He nodded to his plate. “Your chef fixes a very good breakfast. My compliments. Even better than McDonald’s.”
She imagined cramming the blueberries down his throat until he choked. It helped her rein in her temper, channel it into a polite smile. “Monday mornings are the only time we do this, so you’ll need to fend for yourself for the very brief time you remain.”
“Good to know.”
Laying her fingers along the top edge of the newsprint, she impeded his article with her long nails, waited until his dark gaze flicked back up to her face. “Just because we had a good fuck doesn’t mean I don’t despise you and what you stand for,” she said quietly. She kept the frosty curve on her lips. “I’ve had plenty of mind-blowing sex with despicable men. It’s often the only talent they have going for them.”
He set aside the paper, folding it. Even though the movement was unhurried, she tensed, sensing something dangerous in the precision with which he did it. “I am not trying to antagonize you, Raina. You can hate the truth because it came out of my mouth, but you don’t seem the type to let your emotions overtake your judgment. Since that seems to be the exceptional case here, it suggests I unsettle you more than most of those despicable men.”
He leaned forward then, catching a lock of her hair in his fingers. It was a quick move, though done smoothly. The only way to dislodge his grip would be to jerk away, a volatile reaction that would be noticed. But as he wrapped the strand around his hand, drawing her closer to him, she tightened her muscles, resisting him.
“Come here.” Though a murmur, it was an undeniable order, a reminder of the mastery he’d exerted over her the night before, and all the complex emotions he’d untangled with it.