In the Company of Witches
Page 43

That woke some dark memories, for certain. Raina kept her fingers loose and open, though something furled up in her chest like a dying flower. “The way we feed on sexual energy?” she said carefully. “That’s the way some creatures feed on fear. She used you for a purpose, but her ultimate purpose was pain and suffering. I can’t prove to you I’m not like that. You have to use your own judgment, trust where you’ve never been able to trust before.”
It turned her mind to Mikhael. On a certain level, she was asking Isaac to do what she refused to do. She hadn’t given him that full surrender he sought. He could coerce it from her, tapping into her deepest cravings, but he’d held back, waiting. True victory for them both was when she trusted enough to give him everything willingly. It was too soon for that, maybe. But then again, in an incredibly short time he’d opened up things she’d never given a male. She was sitting here, contemplating giving him the rest sooner than later, right? Case in point.
She trusted her intuition in so many ways. Though everyone else might tell her she was crazy, it was possible Mikhael was one of those rare people she could trust.
Isaac withdrew to the porch swing. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He combed back his blond hair, a casually sexy gesture, innate to being an incubus, not calculated. She could see the tension, feel his rabbit instincts readying him for flight.
“All right.” She nodded. “You can’t consent, then. But I am going to make you sleep, Isaac. It’s what you need. Though you won’t believe it, you’ll be safe while dreaming. You’ll wake up safe, and here.”
“No.” He scrambled off the swing, but, of course, there was nowhere to run. “Please don’t.”
She lifted one hand, gently twirling it in the air, a modified royal wave. Like shades rolling down, his lids drooped, then closed. She was swift enough she caught him before he hit the porch boards. He was heavier than she’d expected, but incubi were lean muscle, after all. Lowering him to a supine position, she considered the best way to get him to the bed. The guests hadn’t yet arrived, and even if they had, if they were gazing out the window rather than absorbed in their chosen companion, she needed to do some retraining. She would levitate him, get him inside that way.
Or she could rely on manual labor. Lifting her gaze, she discovered Mikhael standing in the front yard. As the tarot reading came back to her, as well as the thoughts she’d just been having, her stomach made a funny hop. Anticipation, anxiety, inevitability.
“Need some help?” he asked.
When she nodded, he came up the steps. She propelled herself into motion with a jerk, a convulsive twitch. She was going to get Isaac’s legs, but Mikhael waved her off. Squatting, he slid his arms under the young male and lifted him. “Where?”
The guesthouse had an open layout that included a bedroom, sitting room and kitchen. As Mikhael laid Isaac on the wide couch, she took the crocheted afghan along the top and draped it over him, smoothing the hair on his brow. For the first time, the feral look was gone, leaving a young man who would be likable if he smiled, if he didn’t carry a scavenger’s scuttling fear in his eyes.
She left him there without a word, moved back onto the porch and down into the yard. When she reached the gate, she turned to Mikhael. Even hearing his footsteps following close behind her, it was still unsettling to find him right in front of her. “Tarot readings?”
“Parlor tricks. It seemed to help them.”
Tarot was far from parlor tricks, but he knew that. It was just the way he was, never taking anything seriously in an obvious way, even while he looked at the whole world without smiling.
Her world was about to fall out from under her, but she made herself take a step toward him. A small one. His brow furrowed at her look. “You’ve gotten pale, Raina.”
“I never break my word.”
“That doesn’t surprise me to hear.” Then his expression sharpened, catching up. “What are you promising me, Raina?”
“Me.” She swallowed. “Tonight, after my client. However you want me. I’ll come to your room and you can do…the things you’ve talked about doing. The things we both want.” The last words were a whisper.
I flinched when she blinked…Goddess, she knew what that kind of terror felt like. But it didn’t have to touch this. Not if he was worthy of her trust. She was banking everything on the idea that he was.
Mikhael saw it all, felt it all, she was sure. “All right,” he said quietly. No Are you sure? No comfort, because he wouldn’t offer that, not right now. It gave her the ability to stay strong, to not back away from it. He compounded it, showing his ruthless streak.
“So promise me. Give me your word.”
“I give you my word. For tonight…I give you myself. Everything.”
That was it. Her courage deserted her. Pivoting, she moved toward the house, ignoring the way her knees wobbled, hoping it didn’t show too badly. She had a client. That was where her mind had to be now. The rest would be for later.
HE THOUGHT HE’D BE RATIONAL ABOUT IT. THIS WAS A bordello, and Raina ran the place. She had clients she handled personally, just as she said. She’d told him if he didn’t like it, he could find the door. She’d also told him after she finished tonight, she would be coming to him, giving him something she’d never given another.
The second wave of clients arrived, were escorted to the parlor. He could make out the sounds of foreplay, flirting, pleasure being given, pleasure received. Raina’s throaty laugh as she greeted guests, coordinated their desires. He watched the clock tick toward that eight o’clock hour.
Eventually some were taken to private rooms. Gina and Marisa were entertaining in the bedroom above him; Catalina and Min played a game with someone in the library that involved a lot of suggestive laughter and the occasional sound of a riding crop slapping bare flesh. Luke passed outside his door with his arm around the one named Mark, telling him that he had something very special for him…if he was a good boy.
The parlors got quiet. He tuned in to Isaac periodically, verifying he was still in that deep sleep. Otherwise, Mikhael lay stretched across his mattress, every muscle tight, every sense stretched out for one taste of her. Sexual energy was released through the house, coming through the vents and wafting across his ceiling in colors of blue, purple, gold, shimmering silver…
There. Her specific scent, her arousal. That gold and green like her eyes, tinged with blue and rose, an emotional response as well as a physical one.
Fuck rationality.
There was too much swirling through the air for him to pinpoint her location exactly, unless he focused, and he wasn’t really in the mood for focus. It wasn’t that big of a house. He could go room to room if needed. He started with her room, though even before he turned the latch at the bottom of her stairway he knew she wasn’t there. No matter her feelings for a client, she’d never entertain inside her personal space. He’d been the only one to take her there, to make love to her in that far-too-small bed.
He was well aware the house had a mind of its own. A vibration of power, and the latch refused to turn. “Not the moment to fuck with me,” he said. “I’m a fire element, and you’re all dry timber. Really want to go toe-to-toe?”
There was an insolent creaking of boards; then the door opened with a petulant bang against the stairwell wall. She’d probably blame that hole in the Sheetrock on him.
As he reached the top of the steps, Cathair was on her balcony, eyeing him balefully. She must have been running late, for she’d left a pile of clothes on the spread. He picked up a long piece of filmy cloth apparently meant to wrap loosely around the body and shadow what was beneath, not conceal it. He could just imagine her standing on the balcony with the wind fluttering the ends away from her, her dark hair wildly whipping, an invitation to sex and sin under the moonlight.
“Going to Heeelll,” Cathair promised.
“Not before I have raven stew…with carrots.” Mikhael bared his teeth at the bird. The raven cocked his head, unfazed, and defecated over the rail.
He thought about a carefully aimed smack that would spin the bird off his perch and dislodge a few tail feathers, but decided against it. Messing with a witch was one thing, but messing with her familiar? Vicious as mother bears about them. Besides that, if he was going to deliver a smack or pluck any tail feathers, he’d much rather do that to the witch in question.
The library was empty. Min and Catalina had apparently taken whomever they were entertaining elsewhere. Ellen was in the empty parlor, setting out decanters and plumping pillows. She turned in surprise as he came in, probably because the room temperature went up several degrees.
“Where?” Mikhael said ominously.
“She’s with a client,” she said. Apparently something altered in his expression, because she added, with a perilous crack in her voice, “We never disrupt a client’s privacy unless it’s a matter of personal safety.”
He took a step forward, the couch pressing against his knees. “I’m about to break that rule for every fucking client in this house. I will kick in doors until I find her. Plus, she invited me.”
You might learn how to treat a woman. Okay, maybe she was being a smart-ass, but he’d take it at face value.
Ellen had shifted nimbly behind the couch so he wasn’t standing too close. “Let me buzz her, make sure it’s okay. But if she doesn’t answer…”
“Ellen.” Placing his hand on the couch, he sent it sliding away from the wall with enough force it turned the Persian rug into an accordion before it. He had her cornered. “Where? Now.”
“Third-floor ballroom,” she squeaked.
He was being a bastard of the first order. Though his reputation might be fearsome, he rarely felt anger or showed it as such, but right now his blood was boiling. Somewhere in this house, another man’s hands were touching her, his mouth…
With a curt nod, he pivoted and started out the door. Then he stopped, sighed, turned back around. While Ellen watched him with astonished eyes, he moved the sofa back in place, kicked the rug flat once more, then strode from the room.