You keep saying that, but I dont have a type. Vika zipped up the hazardous waste bag, and the two of them hefted the ash-filled container into the back of the hearse. Do I?
Tall, blond and Nordic. You like them looking like Thor, not Thors evil nemesis.
Who is Thors evil nemesis?
Not sure, but I suspect hed look like CJ.
Who has a look that bears a remarkable resemblance to your type.
I know. Libby tugged off her gloves and took out the spell-sanitizing spray from a rubber container in the back of the hearse. And yet, Im not at all attracted to the guy.
Which, I have to say, I appreciate. You should see his home. It would amaze you. I told you he needs prismatic light to keep the demons at bay? He must have a hundred chandeliers hung overall.
Seriously? Like some kind of Tiffanys on crack? Yet another weird feature about the dude that totally doesnt add up to Vika material. You be careful, sister mine. I know your need to help and clean things up is the biggest compeller in this situation. Dont fall so far you cant see the light for his darkness.
Thats a bit dramatic, Libby. Sounded like a line from one of the country music songs she was always singing at the top of her lungs.
Yeah? But whos the better judge of character between the two of us?
Vika sighed. The answer was unnecessary; they knew it was Libby. Vika was too caught up in herself at times to notice the foibles of others, while Libbys extroversion made her a people reader extraordinaire.
Was she taking a wrong step with CJ?
He had threatened her safety twice. Not him, exactly. The lust and menace demons had done that. And hed been genuinely upset and apologetic. He was misunderstood, that was all. And so what if he didnt look like her standard dating material? Maybe it was time she tried something new.
A walk on the dark side.
Her skin flushed in anticipation. Memory of his gentle kiss slowly growing bolder until her skin had felt like liquid fire, as if it was the watery candle flame. Yes, she wanted to delve deeper into Certainly Joness compelling darkness.
The archives were appropriately Gothic and stuffy, tucked into the basement of a building the Council had appropriated centuries earlier for storage. CJ had showed Vika around on a tour. Iron walls supported tunnels dug out of the limestone, and doors were operated with high-tech digital codes. Dry stone and mildew mingled with dust and what she sensed was burned wiring from decades gone by. Bats skittered in the rafters, and a chill enveloped her ankles as if walking over a fresh-packed grave.
She liked it.
Now they sat at the library table beneath a massive Swarovski chandelier fashioned with iron fixtures and crystals that gleamed in all colors. One of the first the company ever made, CJ explained. And it was haunted.
Vika kept looking toward the crystals, expecting to see them move or tinkle in the stillness. If the chandelier was indeed haunted, the spirit or ghost attached would surely sense the presence of ultrasensory entities, such as she and CJ.
Certainly cast her a grin from across the table. Were safe here.
I know. She propped an elbow on the table, the black lace on her sleeve sweeping a stack of books. But how is it haunted? I dont know much about ghosts, but Im ever curious.
My knowledge of the spirit world is on level with yours. And I adore your curiosity.
She tilted her chin up pridefully. She felt his look glow upon her skin in a warm flush.
Ive been told a duke who hailed from Revolutionary Paris was tossed up on the chandelier by peasants and landed on the iron stakes. He was left there to bleed out. Supposedly you can hear a dying groan echoing down, but Ive yet to hear it. Tea?
Oh, yes, please.
He turned on a tea service at the cupboard against the wall, above which a long fluorescent light had been hung. Hed explained his lighting precautions since returning from Daemonia. Hed not divulged to the Council his sudden need for better lighting, but Council members rarely visited the archives, so his secret was for now quiet.
Vika paged through the ancient book of shadows shed selected from the archives, hoping for words like demon, exorcism and Daemonia to jump out at her. When CJ had brought her into the special humidity-controlled room where they stored the grimoires, it had taken away her breath. The room was half the size of his loft apartment, and it had been stacked floor to ceiling with books of all shapes, sizes and bindings. No wonder theyd not been ordered and scanned. Where to begin?
You need an assistant, she said, standing and reaching for another from the stack theyd carried out as the most likely to contain what they were looking for since their covers depicted demons or had been fashioned from human skin.
So Ive been told. You in the market for a job?
I already have one I enjoy. And I dont think Id get to the grimoires because all this dust, well...
She sighed at the sight of every surface dulled with dust. The old, rich woodwork screamed for a good oil polish. Should have brought in her cleaning cart from the hearse. She could still go out and get it....
What if I had the place cleaned up before you arrived? he suggested from over a shoulder.
Would never work. Im far too busy with my business.
Jiffy Clean, he said with a chuckle.
Thats Libbys joke. I didnt notice the sticker for weeks, and I have no idea how to remove it from the hearse without ruining the paint job.
Something the Martha Stewart of witches cant clean?
She tried to think of a comeback, but the sudden sweep of CJs hand across the nape of her neck made her stand up straight. It was followed by the warmth of his breath. The nuzzle of his nose tracing the length of her neck stirred her heartbeats.
Wh-what are you doing?
Your hair spilled away from your neck, and I had to touch it. To learn this little space of skin. A kiss tendered below her hairline. It branded her softly. Is that all right?
She nodded. Dont ever ask me again if your kisses are all right, dark one. They always are.
Her fingers brushed the surface of a grimoire bound in violet suede and then curled over the edges to tickle the pages.
CJs mouth barely touched her skin. She felt him enter her pores and heat her being. Her fingers curled tightly, her nails cutting the edges of the brittle paper. He touched only her neck, not his hands on her arms or his body against hers. It was deliciously erotic and frustratingly confounding. She wanted him all over her, and she did not. This subtle tease wakened her sensory longings and brewed them to a slow, wanting purr.
Pressing her palms to the softbound grimoire, Vika tilted back her head and her hair swept over CJs face. He brushed it aside and over her shoulder and then dashed his tongue down her neck. A touch right there at the base where it curved into her shoulder, and then he retreated, as if testing her, tasting her.
Vika sighed. She shifted her hips, tilting to the side, and found his solid form strong and sure as she glided against him. One of his hands swept around and about her waist, pulling her closer. Slowly but surely, as if demanding and he would not allow her to resist, but yet so measured she couldnt be sure she wasnt agreeing to all this herself.
The teapot whistled and he managed to reach behindhis other hand still clutching her about the waistand remove the pot from the burner. Well let it cool.
His voice tickled her senses with a deep baritone. So manly. She couldnt imagine refusing anything he should request. And she had not thus far. Perhaps he worked a subtle magic on her? A wicked magic for sure, because she could not figure how she was falling for this man. This positively dark man who held no qualities that attracted her. Save for the way he touched her.
You are the Mistress of Subtle Yet Insistent Distraction, he murmured against her skin.
His tendency to give her silly titles thrilled her. Another point to his favor.
A kiss traveled to her dress neckline, which was wide, cresting at the curves of her shoulders. His palm moved up her stomach, gliding over the black lace, which married the fabric to her suddenly warm skin.
She pushed the book away on the table.
Gripping her possessively below her breasts, he pressed his teeth to her shoulder, not biting, not digging in, but hard enough to make her gasp and grasp at the air, yet finding nothing with which to anchor herself. Hed grown daring since their encounter in her spell room, this man who had confessed a preoccupation with magics and not relationships.
Head falling back and aside his, Vika whispered, Hold me tightly, CJ.
With his teeth he tugged at the neckline of her dress and managed to slip it off her shoulder. Hand firmly at her chest, he pressed his hips against her derriere, and she felt his erection, his long, wicked hardness, hug against her body. A wanting murmur hushed across her lips.
Moving lashes of tongue and bites along her shoulder and neck, CJ avoided the necklace with the nail that may warn him away. Instead, he tempered her faltering patience with lingering pauses and silences or a careful touch to her flushed skin that made her shiver in anticipation. Her breasts rose and fell with need. His hand was so close, yet hed not moved to touch her there, where her nipples tightened and tingled.
A momentary glance above verified they stood well beneath the chandeliers glow. Safe. For as much as she wanted safety. Or what if she did not, and instead she decided to remain open to anything he should offer, attempt to take from her? Not so tidy then, eh?
A momentary glance above verified they stood well beneath the chandeliers glow. Safe. For as much as she wanted safety. Or what if she did not, and instead she decided to remain open to anything he should offer, attempt to take from her? Not so tidy then, eh?
Vika clasped his hand and moved it higher, squeezing her fingers over his. He pinched her nipple through the silk-backed lace. Her moan dusted the tea-spiced air, and it felt good to voice her desire. To speak to him with the sound of her want.
You like my touch? he whispered.
Oh, yes. Touch me everywhere, dark one.