Heart of Darkness (5 page)
She exhaled, clearly annoyed. It only spurred him on.
“Begrudging.” She rolled her eyes. “Really, Mr. Bright. If we begrudged you, we’d be teenage girls.” She shrugged. “Certainly we wouldn’t be powerful enough for you to be concerned when you shoplift from our font.” When she cocked her head, her hair slid forward, red, burgundy, threads of gold glinting in the light. He wondered what it would feel like. Before he reached to find out, he busied his hands with a pen.
“You’re using our magick and you haven’t asked. Clearly the nature of this place mandates strong wards to prevent exposure. And you know our position on exposure. So while Clan Owen is certainly sympathetic to your problem, the bigger issue remains.”
Yes, he knew the prevention of exposure was paramount to their people. And yes, he tended to agree that keeping what they were on the down low was a very good thing.
“Lastly, you’re a businessman, Mr. Bright. If I had a drink here, I’d have to ask for it and offer some sort of payment for it.”
“Or be so fucking sexy a Lycian prince buys you one.”
She smiled and he felt a corresponding tug in his groin. She shrugged and went on, “We all have our little bonuses in life. But in any case, you get my point. The font exists to be used by all witches
within
this clan. We don’t quibble with another witch using it. But there are rules and even an outclan witch knows to ask.”
within
this clan. We don’t quibble with another witch using it. But there are rules and even an outclan witch knows to ask.”
He didn’t like asking any more than he liked rules. Damned witches and their rule obsession. Plus, he knew he’d have to give them information about himself, an in to his own magickal signature. He didn’t like anyone having knowledge about him that they could use.
Perceptive brown eyes looked into his. Reading him. Knowing. Saw through the outer facade, right into his soul. He didn’t like that she got him so well, much less the fact that he’d known her all of twenty minutes.
Just for the briefest of moments, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. But that brief moment was enough to send shards of desire splintering through his system. Her presence affected him so much he’d have suspected magicks, but there were none. He had excellent personal shields; he’d have known if she had attempted to ensorcell him. Just being near, the taste of her magick on his skin, had rendered him slightly punch-drunk.
He didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust anything that fast and intense.
She finally spoke, breaking the silence and saving him from the urge to blurt out that he wanted to take her back to his place and strip her naked. He wanted to see what sunrise looked like on her neck, what shadows it would create in the hollow of her throat, the dip of her belly button.
“I can close my eyes when you share magick with me, if that helps. That’s it, right?”
He paused, the words stuck in his throat. Perceptive. So much so he found himself ruffled by it. He cleared his throat. “I don’t share magick very often,” he said, his annoyance clear in his voice. Enough that her eyebrows rose in response.
She sat forward, choosing her words carefully. “Look, I get that you’re probably unaffiliated for a reason and we respect that. We’re a clan, not a cult. We’re all members by choice. Others make different choices and that’s fine too.
I
respect your choice. But the font is powered by
every
witch in the clan and they all agree to let others use it as long as everyone shares. That’s how it works. We all pay in. We all can use it. If we let you shoplift, others will too. And then what’s the point? You don’t want to be in a clan, that’s your choice. But it’s
not
your choice to steal from us. We won’t allow it.”
I
respect your choice. But the font is powered by
every
witch in the clan and they all agree to let others use it as long as everyone shares. That’s how it works. We all pay in. We all can use it. If we let you shoplift, others will too. And then what’s the point? You don’t want to be in a clan, that’s your choice. But it’s
not
your choice to steal from us. We won’t allow it.”
She paused, letting what she’d said sink in. He’d never mistake her for a pushover, pretty face or not. She was a smart, savage woman who’d kick his ass from Seattle to Toronto if she had to. Which only made him want more.
Her voice softened, “No one can get into your head. No one can steal your magick.”
“But that’s how the font works. You take power from witches in the clan.”
She made a face, first annoyed, then confused. Strangely, he wanted to laugh.
“No, that’s not how the font works.” She twisted the bracelet on her left wrist and he saw her clan mark. A pretty, stylized
O
for Owen. “Has no one ever explained it to you?”
O
for Owen. “Has no one ever explained it to you?”
He shook his head. He didn’t need her pity. “I’ve been told enough to get by. I wasn’t raised in a clan. My foster father was my teacher but he’s unaffiliated.”
She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Fair enough. I’m not insulting your intelligence or what you were taught, but you don’t understand how it works. When you expend magick—if you’re keyed into the font—the magick once performed will absorb back. It’s a collector of sorts.”
She must have seen his confusion.
“Okay, so you know energy never dies, it simply turns into something else. That’s physics. It’s not like I made it up. Anyway, the font doesn’t
steal
your magick. It collects whatever the magick dissipates into once the function is served. Like a cistern collects rainwater, for example. Only the dissipated energy once collected, will mature into magickal energy over time and be there should anyone need it.
steal
your magick. It collects whatever the magick dissipates into once the function is served. Like a cistern collects rainwater, for example. Only the dissipated energy once collected, will mature into magickal energy over time and be there should anyone need it.
“Essentially, if you were a registered user of the font, each time someone walked through those wards, a glimmer of energy would travel back to the font. But it can’t because you’re not keyed in. It’s either wasted or it amps up the witches here in the club. I don’t own a nightclub but I know enough to think that’s a dumb idea. Alcohol, pheromones and added magickal power is an unstable combination.”
She sat back, crossing her legs, flashing a slice of pale inner thigh. Good goddess, any minute he was going to drool or something. Even so, he wasn’t so far gone that he failed to notice the intelligence she possessed, the calm confidence with which she carried herself.
“We’re not like some of the other clans. I’m not here to hurt you, although I’d like to bite you, right there on your biceps. Just because it looks tasty.” She blushed a little bit, like she was surprised by her own words. He understood the feeling, being off balance at the moment as well.
“You should feel welcome to bite any part of me you like. Within reason.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Then her flirty nature disappeared as she clearly got back to business. “You have to key in or we’ll cut you off. We don’t negotiate on this. If you try to get into the font again, I won’t be back but our hunters will and they’re not nearly as nice as I am.” She shrugged after relaying the threat.
“You say no one has to be clan but clearly they do.”
She made a face, disappointed in that response. “You’re too pretty to be a whiner. Look, you’re powerful, I can see that, but you don’t have enough skill to ward this place on your own. You can key in with me, which I hasten to add will not automatically make you a member of Clan Owen. You’d have access to the font and, let’s be honest, shall we, some goodwill that might allow this place to stay open in our territory. Or you can try it on your own, without our font. You and I both know how that will end.”
“And then you’d be really hard to convince to go out with me.”
She paused and blushed, just a little. The openness of the moment slowed that time in between them for long moments.
She’d spent every day of her entire life around witches. There was always something comfortable about that. Sometimes it was also exciting or even arousing depending on the other witch. But this connection they had, the way she couldn’t stop thinking about touching him, the way the stamp of his magick caught her breath, that was something different. Deeper. A little scary and a lot exhilarating.
As it happened, she liked this man a lot and it pleased her to know he felt the same. He flirted really well too.
“Yes, very likely I’d be quite annoyed if you made me come all the way down here and refused to key in and then called me to ask me on a date. Say to
Turandot
, which is in town and something I quite love.” Her lips twitched into a breath of a smile before she resumed her best attempt at a calm expression.
Turandot
, which is in town and something I quite love.” Her lips twitched into a breath of a smile before she resumed her best attempt at a calm expression.
“And, if you like, I can give you a bit of a primer on other things you may not know or understand about us.”
“I could key in with you?”
“Of course.” She waited for him to think over his answer. She wasn’t going to push him to rush his choice. He was a businessman, he’d know he had to do it to keep that doorway hidden. But he’d have to find a way to accept it because she had plenty of power to cut him off right then and there. One brief spell and she’d unravel all those ties to the font and his spellwork would slowly die off without all the energy he’d been thieving.
“And other things? I could do other things with you?”
She couldn’t deny it. When they did end up in bed, there’d be teeth marks and no few scratches. There was so much something between them. Energy? Yes, but that wasn’t quite it. Chemistry, yes. Attraction, sure.
Potential
. Yes, that’s what it felt like.
Potential
. Yes, that’s what it felt like.
“Let’s start with keying in and we can discuss your definition of
other things
.” Her insides jittered, thrilled at the idea of working magick with him. Her power flowed, building within, filling, filling as she drew her shields away. Never had it been like this with anyone before.
other things
.” Her insides jittered, thrilled at the idea of working magick with him. Her power flowed, building within, filling, filling as she drew her shields away. Never had it been like this with anyone before.
Normally her magick would rise as she let her shields down, but this was a rush of energy. Surging in reaction to his. She knew she teased him now with hers. Knew tendrils of it slid over his, seducing. It brought her to her metaphorical knees.
The building could fall down around them and it wouldn’t matter. There was nothing else she wanted to do in the world but share magick with Dominic Bright.
“Do I have your permission to ward this room and set a circle?”
He’d been caught by the looks of her. Fascinated and ensnared by all the parts of her. Been impressed by her demeanor and intelligence. But the surge of her energies had washed over and through him with such force it was physical. His own shields had slid aside and his magick rose in response. The pleasure of it shocked straight to his toes. And another place or two.
Clearly working magick with a council witch was a far more intense thing than with a commonwealth witch. Whatever it was, it felt awesome and he wanted a lot more.
Admittedly, her explanation of how the font worked had made him feel better. Not that he really had that much of a choice. She’d been absolutely right when she’d said he didn’t have the skill to keep the wards and other spells working on his own. And he didn’t want any part in exposing his own people by being a selfish sloppy asshole.
“Yes. My permission is freely given.”
Chapter 5
SHE
nodded and took a deep breath and her energy actually moved, like the tide, around him. Wow.
nodded and took a deep breath and her energy actually moved, like the tide, around him. Wow.
“Freely taken.” Efficiently, she took her boots off and padded over to the door, drawing sigils in the air as she spoke under her breath. He only had the barest knowledge of the sort of magick she made as he watched her work. So much skill. She worked the spell, weaving it all together, fitting it perfectly together until it caught hold and came into being.
What he’d tasted of her just moments before had been a whisper of what it was like now. It was as if what he’d experienced had been through a filter, and he supposed that was true; shields were created to keep a witch’s power under control.
He’d never had a taste of another witch so powerful. His skin itched as he watched her set the circle. His body ached for her, drawn to her. His power pressed against his skin.
“I invite you into the circle.” Her eyes lit with the power she’d unleashed, her creamy-pale skin took on a pearlescent glow. Taking in that beauty for long moments, he snapped out of it and stepped in with her, clasping her hands. And for a second everything in him and all around him settled and was totally silent, as if holding a breath.
“I’m just going to key you in. It shouldn’t take very long. Let my power recognize yours and get your signature. Open yourself and let me in.” She paused when he didn’t comply right away. He wasn’t sure what to do. It wasn’t like he ever let anyone in like she was asking. And that tautened sense of something about to happen rode his senses so hard it made him suspicious of it.
She pressed a hand at his sternum. “Your magick lives here. And our shields are a sort of cork, right?”
He nodded, following the logic.
“So it’s useful to have a visual for some witches. Me, for instance. Even when you remove your shields, your tendency will be to hold it back. Those control lessons are the first most of us learn. I sometimes think of a handful of sand. Just unclench and the magick will spill. I’ll catch it.”
Looking deep into her eyes, he knew he could trust her. Not the whys just yet, but he rarely ignored his gut. So he took her advice and threw the locks on his power. It opened up and she flowed in. Like, literally. He felt her energy float into his and suddenly, the circle expanded, tightening to the point of near bursting as magickal feedback screamed. He held on, not knowing what would happen if he let go. So he kept feeding her power to try to even things out.
Other books
The War Cloud by Thomas Greanias
Ghost at Work by Carolyn Hart
A Wind in Cairo by Judith Tarr
Strangers by Paul Finch
The Guest Room by Chris Bohjalian
Rhythm and Bluegrass by Molly Harper
Eliza Lloyd by One Last Night
The Faith Instinct by Wade, Nicholas
Close Enough to Touch by Victoria Dahl