Something About Witches (44 page)

Maybe it was a Dark Guardian thing, because Ruby had been pretty obsessed with him there for a time.

She wouldn’t fall under the same spell as Ruby, though, because sex didn’t matter. It could be strong, passionate, overwhelming, what have you, but in the end, it was a moment or two, balanced against the whole-rest-of- your-life kind of shit, the responsibilities she had. So she set it aside and focused on what mattered— whether or not she was going to have to kick his ass.

On her home turf, she was unbeatable. Most of the time.

“Dark Guardian.” She nodded coolly. “Fancy seeing you all the way out here, and on a Sunday night, no less. We’re closed. If you come back tomorrow night, perhaps we can meet your needs.”

Mikhael glanced at the incubus cowering behind her. “He took something of Lucifer’s. Lucifer wants it back.”

You dumb bastard.
Raina glanced down at the creature, who was staring at Mikhael as if he held a death notice in his hand. Except for his drop-dead sex appeal, Mikhael actually did look as emotionally invested as a bored collection agent who regularly delimbed individuals.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “We didn’t get around to names. You are?”

The incubus shifted his terrified gaze up to her, blinked in surprise, probably at her pleasant tone. “R-Reginald.”

“A fake name will do right now.” She nodded. Spoke succinctly and slow. “Reginald, this is Mikhael. He is a Dark Guardian. You’ve taken one of Lucifer’s toys. They’re very possessive of their toys in the Underworld. If you have his toy, you need to give it back, because it’s not nice to take other people’s toys. Do you have the toy?”

“N-No, I don’t have it.”

“I see.” She looked up at Mikhael. A ways up. The man
was a little too tall for her taste. “Seems we have a conundrum. He says he doesn’t have it, you say he does. He has sanctuary here. Until I can get to the bottom of it, maybe you can just go away. Give me your cell number and I’ll text you.”

Mikhael pivoted, made a gesture. Just that minuscule movement had the incubus whimpering, quailing into a smaller ball behind her, as if he thought her body could completely hide his. However, Mikhael’s focus was on her. His head tilt said he wanted her to step away from the incubus, toward him, for a semiprivate word. There was command in that minute gesture, a command that annoyed her, more for the fact that something in her responded to it than the fact he did it. She stepped forward with an arched brow that told him she recognized the command, was unimpressed by it, but she wasn’t scared of stepping closer to him, either.

A curve touched his lips, a hint of an uncanny smile that could simultaneously chill and heat a woman’s blood to boiling. Because of her shorter stature, such close proximity required that she tilt her head back to stare into his face, which was an advantage she wouldn’t give him. Instead she looked past his shoulder, staring at the woods, waiting for what he had to say. He bent his head, not touching her, but the heat of his breath stirred against her ear.

“I can incinerate him where he lies, witch. I can also do the same to you, your house and everyone in it, before you have the chance to cast your next spell. Is he worth that to you?”

She shifted her gaze up to his, locked. “I didn’t run when you threw flame at me. Why would you think a few words would make me bolt? You can huff and puff all you want, big bad wolf. This house isn’t blowing down.”

“You think I’m bluffing?”

“No, I think you’re testing. If you were enough of a soulless monster to do such a thing, you’d have already done it. Regardless, I won’t lie down and be your doormat. If you want to slaughter us for your information, you go right ahead.”

He tilted his head. His face was so close to hers, it brushed those tempting strands on his forehead against her brow, and his gaze dropped with interested speculation to her mouth. She held her ground, though she felt an odd flutter in her throat, a need to swallow she suppressed.

Something in the dark eyes flickered. “All right, Raina. What would you propose?”

“You know my name.” That was unexpected, but then she knew his, didn’t she? They probably had the same source of information.

“Dark Guardians know everyone’s name.”

“How lovely for you. You never have that awkward moment at parties where you can’t put a name to a familiar face.”

He didn’t blink. “I can read your mind. That’s how I know your name.”

“You’re lying.” She tossed back her hair, stepped back, a deliberate insertion of space, not a retreat.

He flashed a dangerous smile that wasn’t a smile. It was a baring of fangs. “You’re calling me a liar?”

“If it rubs your fur the right way, yes. Perhaps even if it rubs it the wrong way. Some cats like that.”

He swept his glance over her, a gesture that felt like a full-body stroke of that fur. “I’m afraid I’m here to rub
your
fur the wrong way, because I am taking that thing that’s behind you. No matter what.”