whiskey witches 02 - blood moon magick (5 page)

His eyes flared, then the heat in his gaze blipped as if it had never been there. He leaned forward and opened his mouth, his eyes closed.

She giggled. She couldn’t help it. When was the last time she’d
giggled
, of all the damned things? She cut one of her raviolis in half and slipped it into his waiting mouth.

His lips clamped onto her fork. The heat returned to his now open eyes. One hand rested on the table his fingers searching for hers.

What was she supposed to do? Her heart raced as if she were in a panic. She wasn’t a virginal boob. She knew what to do.

But what did she want?

Her mind slowed, her body warming as she met his gaze, feeling a fire rise from the pit of her soul. Did she want him?

Yes
, her body whispered, each nerve in the arm holding the fork pinging to attention, raising the hairs.

Did she need him?

Yes,
her heart cried. A few melted drops of her stone cold heart swam through her veins, filling her with a life she hadn’t realized was missing.

He wasn’t one for settling down and she wasn’t one for roaming. But if she wanted him, she wasn’t going to give him up easily. Was that what she wanted?

Her soul didn’t answer, not in words. A great weight lifted. It didn’t disappear. It simply felt shared.

She slowly removed the fork from his lips, and rose half-way out of her chair, claiming those lips with her own. Salty. Smooth. Cool.

Amazing.

She licked his bottom lip, grazing it with her teeth as she slipped back. Regaining her seat, she speared the remaining half of her ravioli and crammed it into her mouth.

He sank into his chair, but it took him a moment before he started chewing. “Wine?”

“I’ve had enough.”

“I could order more.”

She laughed, a deep, throaty guffaw. They talked about small things after that. Nothing heavy. Nothing deep. Hobbies they had.

When she got him talking about cars, she didn’t have to worry about coming up with anything else to say. She learned more about what happened under the hood than she ever dreamed possible. Fire walls and engine blocks and dropping a tranny and—it went on and on and on. She couldn’t stop him, though. He was just so animated when he talked about it and he lit up.

She gulped her water. She needed full control of her senses before they got back to her place. He’d been sleeping on the couch, but after that kiss, she wasn’t sure she could force him
out
of her bed. Not because of him. Because of her.

By the time they walked out of the restaurant, the buzz from the wine was gone. She still felt a little less constrained, so she knew the alcohol was still in her system. However, it wasn’t controlling her, and that’s what mattered.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, stopping, his head cocked.

The crisp, cold night air nipped at her when they walked out of the restaurant. She tugged her black leather jacket a little tighter and looked around. “No.” But then she did.

A scuffle. Someone grunted. Another person growled.

She glanced at Dexx and headed in the direction of the sounds. She unzipped her jacket and drew her weapon.

Dexx jogged around a dark SUV and slowed to a stop, a confused frown marring his face.

Paige clicked off the safety of her Micro Eagle and turned the corner of the vehicle.

Two men fought in the patch of grass between the parked cars, but something was off with both of them.

One man had fangs.

The other had fur. And was growling.

Paige stepped into the grass and leaned in. “Gentlemen?”

The fanged man stopped, relaxing his face. He tugged on the sleeves of his impressive business jacket and narrowed his green eyes at the other man.

A woman peeled herself out of the shadows, her hands raised. She was tall, blonde, and gorgeous. Her tight, red dress left very little to the imagination. Her high-heeled shoes made Paige’s feet hurt just looking at them. “It’s okay. I’ve already called the cops. You can—” Her ruby red lips curled in a smile as she flicked one well-manicured finger. “—leave. There is nothing to see here.”

“I am the cops.”

The furry man faced her. The “fur” was only along his jaw and hands. His ears were longer than a human’s, like an elf-dog. His eyes glowed yellow, and he had more than fangs. He had a full set of sharp teeth.

How were the cops supposed to handle something like that?

“Rosy, Rosy, Rosy,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Paige blinked, her mind scrambling to figure out a lie to tell her partner. She didn’t even know what she was lying about.

Whoa! What? Tony? What was
he
doing here?

“What have I told you? Keep your dog on a shorter leash.”

Tony entered round circle of light from the overhead parking lot lamp.

His words registered and the mind-scrambling stopped. She raised her chin, a frown furrowing her brows. “Tony.”

He froze, his eyes wide. “Paige.”

The hairy man stood, his face morphing into human. “That’s your partner, right?”

How’d he do that? She knew better than to ask that question. She turned to Fang Man instead. “What happened out here?”

He straightened his shoulders, his expression smug. “We were just having a friendly argument.”

“Then, why did Rosy feel the need to call the cops?”

“She didn’t call the cops. She called me.” Tony stepped toward Paige, his hands raised. “Care to put the gun away?”

“When you explain to me what’s going on here.”

Tony slid his dark gaze to Rosy. “Take your dog somewhere outside the city limits. I don’t want to see him anymore.”

The woman sighed. “It’s hard to break them in out there, Tee. You know that.”

“Not here, Rose. All right?”

“Fine. Fine. Fine. Come on, Pete.” Rosy’s high-heeled steps disappeared around the truck.

Tony turned to Fang Man. “And you?”

“Just teaching the pup a lesson.”

“In public.”

“It wasn’t public until your partner showed up.”

Tony dropped his chin and sighed, his lips flat.

Fang Man straightened his jacket. “Fine. We need to get you a new job.”

Once everyone had left in their vehicles, Tony turned back to her.

By that time, she’d re-holstered her weapon.

Dexx came to stand at her back, quiet but ready.

“Okay.” Paige crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me what just happened.”

Tony narrowed his eyes and mimicked her position. “You read me into what happened in Louisiana, and I’ll read you into what’s going on here.”

She already had a hunch. Vampires and werewolves
were
real.

But having her partner in on this part of her life?

Actually might be very helpful.

Fine. He wanted read in. No problem. “I’m a demon summoner and a witch. In Louisiana, a demon kidnapped me, cast a spell in my bones, and now I house a living door to Hell inside me. It pulls any demon within twenty feet to me and they possess me.”

“Fifty feet,” Dexx offered.

Tony turned to him. “What?”

“Any demon within fifty feet possesses her.”

“Well, that certainly makes the current case difficult.” Tony raised a bewildered brow. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” That was an understatement at best. “Now, you.”

He gestured his concession. “I’m a vampire.”

T
ony refused to give her any more information there in the parking lot. He’d sent Paige and Dexx home with nothing more than, “I’m a vampire,” and, “We’ll discuss this in the morning.”

The drive home had been filled with stunned silence. The “stun” didn’t wear off until Paige was in her jammies and had her toothbrush shoved in her mouth, her lips rimmed with foaming toothpaste. “It’s weird, right? He’s been my partner for five years. You’d think I’d notice something like that. The aversion to sun, maybe?”

Dexx swooshed his mouthwash, his cheeks puffed. He shrugged and muttered something completely unintelligible with his lips closed.

She frowned at him. He wore nothing more than his dark gray boxers. After the talking and the wine and relaxing, she’d really hoped to come home and maybe dance the bed-mambo on top of the sheets. The light enhancing the dark trail of hair leading the way to his bellybutton should have done something for her. Watching as his muscles danced under his tattoos should have kicked something into girly gear.

And it did. Her inner sex-kitten purred a little.

But now? She was wound tight again, her inner sex-kitten trapped inside a cage of anxiety.

Sex could fix that.

If she could just unkink her nerves enough to
feel
anything of a sex-like manner.

Gah! She was frustrating herself.

During her internal butt-kicking monologue, Dexx had spat out his mouthwash and disappeared into the bedroom.

Why in the world would that man choose to stay with her?

Stepping into the bedroom, she found him leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed.

She knew what he wanted to know. Was he sleeping on the couch or in the bed? The apartment only had one bed. In Louisiana, they’d settled the matter with him sleeping on top of the covers and her underneath.

Then, after the kiss tonight, she was fairly certain he was wondering if they’d have sex. Sometime before they both retired or wound up dead.

Well, she assumed that because that was the question
she
was asking herself.

Frankly, she had bigger matters on her plate than sex. What she really wanted was him in her bed snuggled up to her, holding her in his arms, his breath in her hair. Sex was good, yeah, but it wasn’t everything.

He bowed his head and sighed, pushing himself off the doorway. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Taking two quick steps, she caught him by the arm.

He turned, searching her gaze.

She pulled him into her room and flipped off the light on her way to the bed. “Don’t think I’m an easy lay. I’m not. You bought me dinner.”

“A nice dinner.” His tone implied pride but nothing more.

“A very nice dinner, but I’m not having sex with you tonight.”

“Good. Clean expectations. I like it. So, just snoring.”

She winced as she crawled into bed. “Sans snoring, if we could.”

He made some obnoxious snoring noises as he climbed under the sheet and the two comforters. “Do you get cold often?”

She glared at him. The bedroom wouldn’t cool in the summer and wouldn’t heat in the winter. So, without her own, personal heater, she needed as many comforters and blankets she could get her hands on.

She slapped his chest playfully. Being this relaxed with another person felt nice. Being with him made every crack, every hole—even that deep, twisting vortex of a sucking black hole in the center of her stone cold, charred heart—seem complete.

Everything except the doorway to Hell.

But that was her soul. Not her heart.

He offered his arm, settling onto his pillow.

She curled into his side, throwing her leg over his hip, sighing with contentment.

He groaned, pulling her close. “What time are you going in to work?”

“I set the alarm for five.” She wanted to get to the office early and get her answers.

“Are you a little eager?”

She narrowed her eyes. Glaring light from the parking lot streamed through the closed blinds directly onto the pillows, so she could see the contours of his face and bare chest. He smelled like man and Irish Spring. A good combination.

“Just so you’re aware,” he said, his voice rumbling in her ear, “I wasn’t going to let you have your way with me tonight anyway.”

She snorted with a smile against his chest.

“I have my priorities, too, you know. Find a stable woman to support me, get her pregnant, trap her into marrying me, and then raise her babies.”

She chuckled, her eyes drooping. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well, at least you noticed.” He pressed a kiss onto the top of her head and settled deeper into the mattress. “Good night.”

“This is weird, right?”

“Uh,” he said after a moment. “What is?”

“Vampire. A real one. And a werewolf. Wolfing out.”

“Oh. Yeah. That.”

She propped her chin on his chest. “How have we never heard of this before?”

He lifted one shoulder. “We were focused on demons?”

“But werewolves.”

He winced. “It does seem weird. I’ve only been in this for eight years, but I was hunting a demon, looking for a demon. I mean, sure. I heard about stuff like this, but I never took it seriously because, you know, it wasn’t the demon I was hunting.”

“So, blind eye?” She struggled to find a better reason.

“For me. But what about you? You were raised with this.”

“I know. I mean, my family is a big name in the witch world…”

He opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was a breath.

Paige rolled over and grabbed her phone. It was plugged into the wall and resting on the low, cardboard moving box that served as her fan stand.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting Leslie.” The phone took the word “werewolves” with ease. So, if Android accepted the term with ease, why was she struggling with it?