Books 1-3 Read online

  She didn’t struggle or tense, which told him she didn’t know her skirt was gone, and he had no plans to bring it to her attention.

  He took his time scanning her lithe legs and curvy hips, yearning to run his hands from her toes to her nose, but he wouldn’t get the opportunity tonight. She was far too insecure to feel comfortable with it and would spend more time worrying about what she looked like than how she felt. He would relieve her worries soon enough, and honestly so, for every inch of her was flawless. Toned muscle rolled beneath incredibly smooth skin, following a petite frame angled in all the right places. She was shapely yet tiny, and so dainty in comparison to him.

  He slid his hand from her cheek to the side of her neck, curving his thumb over her jaw, and his other hand left her chest, drifting toward the only article of clothing she had left. He had no intention of sending the underwear away. He wanted them to stay, and what he planned to do could be worked around them. Or, to be precise, under them. Eventually, if hope prevailed, he’d get his chance with her sans panties, but he’d save that hurdle for a later date.

  Oh god. Layla was gone and didn’t think she’d ever find her way back. Nothing in her life had compared to this, and she was pretty sure nothing ever would again. Her hands got lost in his hair as he scattered her body and brain. She couldn’t think straight.

  Just when she didn’t think she could withstand one more second of the exquisite fire, a rush of warm tingles tightened her core. For several splendid seconds she remained caught in a whirlwind of heightened emotion. Then his advances softened, letting her melt into the bed.

  Struggling to keep his breathing even, Quin rested his forehead on her chest. He took a deep breath, finally feeling a dip in his heart rate. Then he reluctantly moved away and lay beside her.

  She was tangled in the blankets, her eyes remaining closed. He laid a hand over her thundering heart, but stayed quiet, basking in her reaction to his touch. She was stunning and her aura—already the biggest and brightest he’d seen—covered a larger area than usual.

  He imagined what it would be like to take things further. Making love to her would take him higher than he ever dreamed of going, and every part of him longed for the journey, but until then, he would wait.

  Her breathing slowed, and he figured she’d soon open her eyes, so he magically replaced her clothes, unwilling to ruin the moment by embarrassing her. He scooted closer, touching his lips to her cheek, but then she rolled onto her side and breathed his name.

  He played with her hair while waiting for her to speak, but after twenty minutes of silence, he looked down to find her aura and body peacefully still. She’d fallen asleep in his arms, and that was fine by him. There was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was a saying where the stranger came from – hexless women are three things: easy to get in; easy to get off; but tough to get rid of. The first two had proved true. Now, as he awoke in the suite of a Portland hotel, finding Chelsea’s starry-eyed gaze, he feared the third adage would ring true as well.

  “It’s never been that way,” she whispered.

  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he sat up on the side of the bed and reached for his pants. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” A proper romp was the least he could give her after sending her boyfriend to the emergency room. Besides, it gave him a chance to magically probe it for information regarding Layla. Unfortunately, the receptionist didn’t know anything and had only seen Layla once – the night she checked in.

  “Did you?” Chelsea asked.

  “Did I what?” he returned, pulling on his shirt.

  “Enjoy yourself,” she clarified.

  Eh, he thought, but he answered, “Yeah.”

  Tucking the covers under her arms, Chelsea sat up and scooted closer. “I’ve been with David for three months, but it’s never been like this.”

  “David’s a mindless prick,” he pointed out, getting to his feet.

  “Maybe,” she agreed, “but I still feel bad for cheating on him while he’s in the hospital.”

  “Perhaps he should treat you better,” the stranger suggested, digging into the mini-bar. He downed a travel size bottle of liquor, washing the hexless taste from his mouth. Then he walked to the phone.

  “Are you calling for breakfast?” she asked. “They started serving five minutes ago.”

  He ignored her as he sat at the desk and dialed the lobby. “Layla Callaway’s room,” he requested.

  He heard a big sigh as Chelsea fell back on the pillows, but the childish gesture was forgotten when the operator broke the news that Layla had checked out the night before.

  “What?” he blurted, shooting from his chair. “What time?”

  “I don’t have that information, sir.”

  “Did she check out in person? Or did she call?”

  “I don’t have that information either.”

  He cursed, slamming down the receiver.

  “What happened?” Chelsea asked.

  “She checked out,” he fumed, barely aware of the naked woman watching him. “It had to have been some time after ten. Is that when your shift ended?”

  “9:30,” she corrected.

  He moved closer to the bed, narrowing his eyes on her muted aura. “Layla didn’t call while you were down there, did she?”

  “No,” Chelsea answered, shaking her head as she shrank away. “If she did, I didn’t take the call.”

  He found truth in her wide eyes, so he closed his own, trying to calm himself. “Damn it.” Layla could be hundreds of miles away by now.

  “Layla isn’t your sister, is she?” Chelsea realized.

  He opened his eyes, finding the clerk staring up at him like a lost puppy. “No,” he confessed, sitting beside her.

  Her face turned red as she dropped her gaze, but he lifted it back up, determined not to make a mess in the hexless world.

  “Listen to me, Chelsea,” he softly ordered, smashing short, spiky hair as he took her skull in his palm.

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion, but then his magic hit her brain and her expression smoothed. “Yeah?” she mumbled.

  “You need to leave,” he instructed, mentally echoing the message, “and forget you spent the night with me. You were tired after work, so you got a room and stayed by yourself.”

  Chelsea’s eyebrows furrowed, so he sharpened his concentration and mentally repeated the command.

  “I was tired,” she decided.

  “Right,” he smirked.

  “David’s heart attack wore me out,” she added.

  “Yes it did,” he encouraged. “And speaking of David, he’s a lowlife who isn’t good enough for you, so you’re going to break up with him, stop wearing so much makeup, and find someone better.”

  “Yeah,” she advocated, nodding her head.

  He relaxed, knowing his message had seeped deep enough to last. “Close your eyes,” he said, and she obeyed without hesitation. “In twenty seconds, you’re going to open your eyes, get dressed, and leave without speaking to anyone.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, a determined look pinching her features. She was eager to please.

  Convinced his mind trickery would hold, he released her head. Then he concealed himself as he stood and moved out of the way.

  When Chelsea opened her eyes, she rubbed them and scowled at her naked body. She chewed a thumbnail as she contemplated the situation. Then she shivered and scrambled to find her clothes.

  The stranger leaned against the wall as he watched her retreat, and he would have been tempted to laugh if he didn’t know how it felt to be brainwashed, to be missing time and tidbits of reality. As a child, he’d lost countless hours of cognizance, and while he hadn’t suffered the fate in years, he remembered the confusion and the guilt – the inability to connect the dots.

  Once poor Chelsea had cleared the area, the stranger latched the deadbolt with a wave of his hand then lifted his concealment spells. Digging into his satche
l, he retrieved a small bag of gemstones and sat at the desk.

  Time to confront the two ethereal souls guiding him, the spirits who claimed to have his best interests in mind.

  They took longer than usual to respond, and when he asked them why they kept leading him astray, they wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

  ‘You hinder your own path,’ one of the souls censured. ‘You place us all in grave danger.’

  “You?” he returned. “You’re dead.”

  ‘The witch you seek holds favor with the Heavens. We risk eternity to aid you. You must do it our way or doom us to the underworld.’

  The stranger’s nostrils flared as he impatiently drummed his thumbs on the desk. “Fine. Where is she?”

  ‘I see your heart, child. You lose sight of what’s important.’

  “I said I’d do it your way,” he snapped. “Where is she?”

  ‘She has found her birth family.’

  “Already?” He laid his forehead in his hand and breathed deep, trying not to lose his temper while connected with the spirits. “Now what?”

  ‘Now you find her.’

  “Oh now I find her,” he scoffed. “Like that wouldn’t have been easier before she had a coven to protect her.”

  ‘She’ll be no use to you dead.’

  “No,” he agreed. “She needs to stay alive. So she’s with the Conn/Kavanagh coven, right? Tell me their numbers and weaknesses.”

  A long moment passed with no reply, so he touched a gemstone and tried again. “Tell me about the Conn/Kavanagh coven.”

  Still, nothing.

  “Are you kidding me?” he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

  ‘Adjust your path,’ the spirits scolded. ‘The witch is a gift you must earn without offending the Heavens.’

  “You don’t think I’ve done enough?” he simmered, rising to his feet. “I’ve paid with blood and tears, my youth.” He curled his fingers around the lip of the tabletop and upended the desk, scattering its contents across the room. “Damn you,” he scorned, pointing at his gemstones as if they were the ethereal souls, but the connection was gone.

  “Damn you,” he quietly repeated, sliding his hands through his hair.

  He slowly filled his lungs. Then he sighed as he righted the desk with a wave of his hand and knelt to clean his mess.

  Guess it was on him to get information on the witch’s family, and that’s exactly what he’d do… at all cost. Screw his guides. Once he had the witch, he wouldn’t need them anymore.

  Chapter Twelve

  Waking up with Layla in his arms made Quin want to quit his job, but he knew she’d never let him. Just as well; there was something he needed to do, some unfinished business to deal with – an unpleasant task at best, one he’d rather skip, but that wasn’t the way he did things, so he’d man up and get it over with.

  There was also the fact that he worked with his parents and didn’t want to leave them in a lurch. They had three construction projects scheduled that week – easy tasks, but ones he would need to be there for.

  He mind searched Cinnia, who was more than happy to share her coffee. Then he looked down, watching Layla’s aura serenely swirl.

  “Layla Love,” he whispered, and her fingers curled, dragging nails down his chest. “I love waking up with you.”

  Her breathing quickened as her aura pulsed with a variety of emotions. Bright yellow was abundant, as was the very shiny and substantial dark brown. His eye color almost appeared black in her aura, and it was the most beautiful hue in the hazy rainbow. Quin had always considered his eye color mundane, but on seeing it in her aura, he gained a new respect for it. She made it look lovely by casting it with a purity and brightness that surpassed every other hue. Dotted with tiny, pulsating stars, the espresso river swam through spirals of silver ribbons, and its current hugged her body, never straying too far from her heart. Quin had never seen an aura like hers. It amazed him every time he looked at it, but he was careful not to react since the exposure made her uncomfortable.

  But not as uncomfortable as she is now, he thought, watching the colorful haze turn inward, like it wanted nothing more than to melt into her skin. Quin wasn’t used to seeing such things in witches, but he knew exactly what it meant. She was mortified. The flesh where her blushing cheek lay grew hot, and he tightened his hug, at a loss for words that might make her feel better.

  Mortified couldn’t begin to describe how Layla felt.

  As she lay in the most heavenly place on earth, red-faced and full of regret, she was far beyond embarrassed. She’d fallen asleep on him.

  Well, the least she could do was show her appreciation now. But how was she supposed to do that? Thank you wouldn’t cut it. She was clueless. And if she didn’t respond soon, he would feel like he needed to reassure her, which was the last thing she wanted.

  She took a calming breath, magicked her teeth clean then smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

  “Hey, beautiful. It’s good to see your smile.”

  “You, too. Sorry I fell asleep . . .” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. I fell asleep, too.”

  She smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Before or after I did?”

  “After.” He pulled her up his body and laid her head on his pillow. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very well. You?”

  “Yes, better than I have in . . .” He grinned and tilted his head. “. . . ever.”

  “Me, too, Quin. Last night was . . . it was . . .” Damn it, Layla, get a grip. “It was beyond amazing.”

  This time she kissed him, and she didn’t kiss him softly. She kissed him deeply while pressing her body to his. He was stunned at first, but quickly got over it, taking her face in both hands as he kissed her back. When they broke apart, they stayed close, smiling as they gasped for air.

  “Well,” he breathed, “this is a good morning.”

  She giggled and gave him another kiss. Then she rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, knowing he was watching her go.

  Once her feet found smooth tiles, she closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, trying to clear her dizzy head. She could still feel the effects of his kiss.

  Her stomach continually fluttered as she made herself somewhat presentable. Then she grabbed the doorknob, trying to act normal as she entered the room.

  Quin sat in a chair by the coffee table, but stood when she walked in.

  “You put your shirt back on,” she pouted, closing the distance between them.

  His shirt vanished, and of course she flinched before laughing at her inability to adjust. “That’s better,” she approved, reaching for his pecs. Her palm found smooth warmth. Then her cheek found his heart. “You’ve spoiled me now. You can never wear a shirt again.”

  He laughed as he ran a hand down her hair. “If you say so, but that whole no shoes, no shirt, no service thing will limit where I shop.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll go in and get what you need.”

  He pulled her tighter against him then vanished her tank top. “Now what will we do?”

  Layla had felt it immediately, as her chest was now pressed against rigid abs, but his firm hold prevented her from doing anything about it, so she tried to relax. “Guess we’ll have to shop at a nudist colony.”

  “There you go,” he approved, spreading his palms across her back. “I have something for you.”

  “Of course you do. You’re always spoiling me.”

  A mug appeared a few feet away, hovering right in her line of sight, and her eyes widened on the steam curling toward the chandelier.

  “Would you like a cup of Cinnia’s coffee?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, stifling the urge to lick her lips.

  “Take it,” he offered.

  Keeping herself pressed against him, she reached for the cup, but it hovered a few inches beyond her fingertips. A second later, she figured out his game. “No fair,” sh
e exclaimed, looking up to find a mischievous smile stretching from one dimple to the other. “You’re teasing an addict.”

  His grin widened. “I know. Want it?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then get it. I’ll let go.”

  “I bet you will,” she murmured, raising a magical palm.

  “Nuh-uh,” he countered, and the cup floated further away. “You have to walk over there and get it.”

  “Oh yeah?” she returned, narrowing her eyes on the mug, but again, it floated further away.

  “You’re only making it a longer walk,” he noted. Then he rubbed her back and kissed her head. “Does it really bother you that bad?”

  Layla found his eyes, knowing it shouldn’t bother her at all. He’d already seen her boobs and had kissed them, but in the light of day, none of that seemed to matter. Nevertheless, so she took a deep breath and a large step back.

  A smile brightened his features as his gaze dropped to her chest, and heat rose from her toes to her nose, but she didn’t move toward her coffee or hide herself. She just stood there, being bold, ignoring her squirming stomach while offering him a nice, long look.

  He didn’t take it, though. The moment he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he raised his eyebrows and found her face. “You just made my day,” he whispered, pulling her into a hug. “Not only because your body is amazing, but because you trust me enough to let me look at it. Thank you.” He held out a hand, and her coffee zoomed into it. “Here. I can’t deny you a second longer.”

  She took the cup then turned around, leaning into him as she sipped. “I don’t mind what you do with your hands, just don’t make me burn myself.”

  His aura swelled around her. “I wouldn’t dare burn an angel.”

  Layla relaxed and took another sip.

  When her cup was half empty, Quin refilled it and kissed her head. “It’s time for me to go to work.”

  “Oh,” she breathed, heart plummeting. Of course he had to go. He had a life, and it was Monday morning. He’d spent his entire weekend catering to her; now it was time to face reality. “Okay,” she agreed, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.