Lauren Dane - Heart of Darkness

She smiled, leaning back against the seat, turning to see him better. “Oh. Well, you’re sort of yummy.”

His lips curved up. “Just so you know the invitation to kiss or whatever you want on my body is always open.”

She tried to focus on him, the details of his face, the way his magick seemed to pulse from him, like a heartbeat. In the car, in a closed space like that, it was warm and spicy, mingling with her magick, changing it, sharpening it. Interesting the way her magick changed in response to his.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t take his eyes from the road, but she could see surprise ghost over his features.

“For what?”

“You came to my door and you made my day better.”

“Oh. Well,” he sort of stammered and it charmed her. Made her wonder how often he received that sort of praise.

“I may as well ask you out for tomorrow as well. I’ve secured some tickets for Turandot .”

“You did?” She grinned. “Really?”

He laughed. “I’m glad to know you like the plans.”

“Can you do that? Take a Saturday night off? They do have a matinee.”

“Weekends are obviously busy. And I do need to be there. But I can go after the opera. Or you could come with me. We have a manager for the human part of the club. Simon’s my partner so he’s there as well.”

“So does he sit in that booth surrounded by women in tight dresses and their bits hanging out?”

His grin was wide and it made her want to take his hand, so she did.

“Jealous, my gorgeous witch? Don’t be.”

“Mmm-hmm. We’ll see about that. When I come to visit do I get a harem? To match yours?”

He snorted. “I think not. And they’re not a harem. Not really.”

Not anymore they weren’t.

HEled her through the entry of the restaurant, his hand at the small of her back. He knew, as he caught sight of the two of them in the mirrors there, that they made a striking couple. People stopped to look, and he didn’t blame them. She was long, but curvy, lush. Moved with a certain kind of self-assured grace and strength. The power she had been gifted with shimmered from her, like pixie dust.

He took a deep breath, breathing it into his lungs, loving her scent all bound up with the flavor of her magick. In marked contrast to many of the dresses the other women wore, she had on a short, seventies-flavored number. Dark blue. No sleeves, but a collar that was ornamental, like a bold necklace. He was fairly sure that dress wouldn’t have worked on too many other women. But Meriel Owen wasn’t too many other women.

In her heels, she was as tall as he, which had proved useful when he’d leaned in for the first kiss of the evening. Ha! First kiss. If ever words did not do justice to what they’d shared in her entry, it was those. He’d had to step back to keep from pushing farther. He knew she wanted him, knew if they’d continued that kiss and grope in her hallway, they’d have ended up in bed.

And, he had to admit, this slow build, while murder on his cock, was damned sexy. Like very sensual foreplay. Because the longer he thought about what she’d said the night before, the more he not only understood her perspective, but he agreed with it.

He found himself at ease with her. So often he felt as though he had to hold back, had to stay sharp because everyone always wanted something from him. And part of that was his own fault, when you run with a bunch of criminals for years, it’s not surprising when one of them screws you over.

But this was a sort of quiet ease. And he liked it.

He held her chair out and she sat, allowing him to push the chair in and circle to sit and face her. She made him want to be a better man. Made him want to take care of her. It was unsettling even as it was a good thing.

He took the menu and looked it over before setting it aside to turn his attention back to her. “I like this place. It’s dark, but not so dark I can’t see your face. That would be a shame, since it’s so nice to look at.”

Her gaze flicked up to snag with his. “Thank you. I’ve eaten here a few times, usually for business lunches and that sort of thing. It’s quite lovely at night. Romantic even.”

He’d thought so too, which is why it had been the first place that had come to his mind to bring her. “Tell me, why did you become a lawyer?”

“You might know that we run a series of design businesses. Turns out I suck at any sort of gardening or landscape and interior design. I hate math. Law was a logical choice. My father suggested it, said I could get paid to be argumentative.”

Her smile brightened a little and he found himself doing the same in response. “I know I’ll be taking over for my mother. It seemed logical to follow a career path where I could be active in the governance of the business. I need to be prepared.”

Conversation paused as their drinks were delivered and the order was taken. A mysterious smile marked her lips when he did the ordering, but she didn’t seem angry or annoyed by it.

He’d done enough research on Clan Owen to have earned a slightly fearful respect for Edwina Owen. Enough that he wondered just what a woman like her had been like as a mother. “What does she do? Your mother, I mean?” he asked once the server had retreated.

She laughed. “Edwina does everything and she does it all exceedingly well.” After a sip of her drink she put it down to bring her attention back to his face. “Where did you grow up?”

“Eastern Oregon. Just outside Bend. Tom, my foster dad, heck, my dad really, he’s a backcountry guide.”

“Do you miss it? That sort of rural living?”

He paused, thinking. “No. It’s clean and certainly far enough away to keep most kids out of too much trouble.” He’d often wondered if that wasn’t exactly why Tom had settled them there. It had worked. For a while anyway. “But I like the energy in cities. I like the movement and the hum and the ability to get breakfast at three in the morning.”

She laughed. “Yes, I have to agree I like that too. Though I do enjoy the forest quite a bit. There’s a lot of energy to draw from here. A lot of people around. But in nature I find it’s often easier to work. There’s less interference.”

She knew a lot more about magick than he did. He might have been annoyed by this any other time, but right then, he found himself wanting her to show him her world. Maybe even to teach him about his own.

“So tell me about the call.”

Casually, she looked around and he caught the movement of her lips and knew she’d done something to give them privacy.

“I’ve been made the liaison with other groups of witches.” The look on her face told him that had been a hard-won job. “So first I got word of some witches who’d gone missing in New Mexico. We’d heard over the last eighteen months or so about some others who’d been attacked. Magically attacked. Today I spoke with the hunter of the Rodas Clan. One of the oldest and most respected clans in the country. Headquartered in Rhode Island,” she explained at his blank look. “They have in their custody some mages who’d been working with some anti-paranormal hate groups to stalk and steal magick from witches.”

He sat up straighter. “Do tell. Why is it they’d come to have these creatures in their hands?”

“What they know is that two witches had been targeted. One of them had been victimized over most of her life. Slowly siphoned from. The other was attacked more suddenly and recently.”

“But why? Why would they do it?”

“Greed? I don’t know for sure, but we have heard of these cases where witches have been targeted and then attacked.”

“For what purpose though? Like feeding junkies and turned witches? What? Tom always taught me that magick with a k was our natural energy but what stuck witches used was magic because inherent magick can’t be traded like that.”