Avet, Danica - Ain't No Bull [The Veil 4] (Siren Publishing Classic) (18 page)

Duffy coughed into his fist, drawing her attention to Grant. His face was the color of a ripe tomato. “What? It’s just a pair of jeans. It isn’t like I stripped them off of you on the way over here or anything.”

He shook his head, but his eyes promised retribution. She smirked back at him.

The witch took the jeans from Izzy, pinching them between her index finger and thumb. Her nose twitched with distaste as she studied the clothing for a few moments before she handed it back to Izzy.

“It’s definitely a memory spell. I think it was cast by the same person who cast the terror spell.”

Izzy turned her attention to Grant. “You didn’t notice anything?”

The minotaur shook his head, a frown pulling his eyebrows into a sharp V above his nose. “There weren’t any witches here that night. At least, I don’t remember there being any.” He looked over at Duffy. “Do you remember seeing a witch a couple of nights ago?”

The demon lord frowned thoughtfully. “This is the night you lit out with those nymphs, right?”

It didn’t seem possible, but Grant turned redder as he flicked a glance at Izzy. She did her best to keep her expression bland. Now that she’d spent some time with him, she didn’t like the idea of him planning a wild orgy with a bunch of nymphs, but yeah, whatever. He must’ve read that in her eyes because he winced slightly before turning back to Duffy.

“Yeah, that night.”

There was a loud, raspy sound as Duffy scratched his chin, his face flexed in thought. “Nah, didn’t see any witches.”

So much for her theory! Izzy was pissed. “Son of a—”

“But I did see a warmage earlier in the night,” Duffy continued in a steady drawl. He pinched his bottom lip. “Seem to recall he didn’t order nothing, which I found strange, but lots of strange types come in here.”

She could’ve kissed him! “So is it possible for a warmage to cast these spells?” she demanded of the witch, who nodded. “Then we need to look for a bastard warmage.”

Glenda stiffened, her silver eyes narrowing.

This time it was Grant’s elbow that found her ribs, expelling a loud “oomph” from her. “Um, sorry. No offense.”

The long-suffering sigh next to her ruffled the hair straggling out of her ponytail as Grant gave her a mock glare. “Is there any chance we can track the warmage through the spells?”

Izzy rolled her eyes, but held her tongue since Glenda seemed really miffed. Apparently being blunt only took you so far. Go figure.

“You could,” the witch replied slowly, her eyes on Izzy, “but it wouldn’t be wise. The spell on the Amazon has been in place for several weeks.”

“What.” Izzy’s humor faded as she frowned at the witch. “That’s impossible. I just got here a couple of days ago.”

Glenda shrugged. “That’s what I sense. The terror spell is firmly attached. You’ve had it for long enough that any attempt to remove it would kill you. The memory spell on the minotaur is newer, less…set in stone.”

“Does that mean I might regain my memories if enough time has passed?” Grant demanded before Izzy could ask Glenda what the fuck she was talking about.

She nodded her silver head. “Naturally. It would take days, possibly even weeks though.”

“Shit.”

“Times two,” Izzy agreed as she wondered where she’d picked up a friggin’ terror spell from. She massaged her temples. “Is that all you can tell us?”

Glenda and Duffy glanced at each other, unspoken words passing between them. After a few seconds, Izzy was ready to scream when Glenda turned back.

“If there’s a warmage involved in this…whatever this is, then watch your back. The spells are just the beginning of the game for them.”

Well, duh. Izzy could’ve told them that, but once again bit her lip. Maybe she was learning self-control after all? It was a real bitch, that was for sure. All that restraining herself from jumping in with both feet. She sighed as Grant said their farewells.

Once outside the bar again, Izzy stared up at the gray sky. Thick clouds on the horizon spoke of more snow. Yay, snow. Not.

Grant was already at the truck, opening the passenger door for her. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but she suspected he’d do it anyway. Heaving another heavy sigh, she trudged to the truck.

Once they were on their way back to the ranch, Grant broke the tense silence in the cab.

“Where do you think you picked up the spell?”

“I don’t know,” she said on a sigh after several minutes of contemplation. “I was involved in a lot of assignments back home before I was sent here. None of them involved warmages, but it isn’t impossible for a mage to cast a spell from a distance.” She gnawed on one of her fingernails thoughtfully. “What I don’t like is that the same warmage who got me, got you. The chances of that happening are astronomical.”

He was frowning at the windshield, his hands steady and sure on the steering wheel.

Izzy sighed and looked out her window. Yeah, he probably thought she’d pissed someone off. That’s when she remembered a very small, insignificant incident that happened three days before her exile went into effect.

She must have tensed because Grant looked over at her. “What?”

“Before I left home, I went to a party with my sisters. I drank a little too much and spent half the night being chatted up by a werewolf.” She could feel him glaring at her, but she was too caught up in her fuzzy memories to care. “Rosetta told me there was a dryad who glared at me all night. I didn’t think anything of it until now, but it’s possible she might have bought a spell to use against me.”

Grant didn’t say a word, although with the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, she didn’t think she needed him to speak. Shrugging off his moodiness, she frowned in thought.

“It’s entirely possible this warmage is a spell caster for hire,” she mused out loud. “That would make a lot of sense, actually. He wouldn’t give a shit who he waylaid with a spell and he’d be more mobile than someone with a vendetta.” That damned dryad! “I should’ve kicked that little dryad’s ass.”

“Why? Because you wanted the werewolf all for yourself?”

Izzy’s head whipped around so fast, she hurt her neck. “What?”

That’s when she saw the jealousy in Grant’s face. His eyes had bled to black and his nostrils flared around his ring. He was so hot! She shook her head.

“I was thinking more along the lines that the little bitch fucked me over with a spell,” she told him drily. Really, as if she’d want a werewolf! She snorted. No, the only shapeshifter she had on her mind was one she couldn’t have.

He didn’t look appeased, but at least he didn’t pursue the subject further. It wasn’t like she was happy about the situation herself. Some stupid, jealous dryad had taken her one, secret fear and turned it into a debilitating weakness. She cracked her knuckles. Oh, yeah, when she got home…

Chapter Seventeen

It was damned hard to keep from snatching Isola close and showing her exactly who she belonged to. If she’d been any other woman, he might’ve done exactly that, but she was an Amazon with an attitude. She’d knock his head off if she knew what he was thinking.

It wasn’t easy, though. Just the thought of her flirting out of boredom with another male was enough to make him see red. The logical part of his brain understood she hadn’t told him to make him jealous, she’d just wanted to explain where her thoughts were headed. He got that. He didn’t have to like it though.

The rest of the ride to his house was silent and, on his part, angry. Isola seemed wonderfully oblivious to his mood, or she was just ignoring him. Sliding a look at her, he decided on the latter. She was very good at pretending she didn’t know he was sitting next to her and that annoyed the shit out of him.

Braking in front of his house harder than he needed to, he ignored the indignant glare she sent him. Yeah, he was in a bad mood.

“I need to do some chores,” he muttered as he slammed the truck door closed. “I should be back in a couple of hours.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he headed for the barn at the back of his property. He needed some alone time where a man could think.

A few hours turned into most of the night because he couldn’t bring himself to go near her yet. The need to conquer and possess rode him hard, warring with his logic. Even banging tools and equipment around didn’t help much and Grant had a feeling that the only that would make this need go away was to make Isola his own. Permanently.

* * * *

The next day, Izzy had to admit she was bored out of her mind. When Grant had taken off for his barn, he hadn’t appeared until nearly dawn. She’d gone to check on him a couple of times, but all the banging and cursing in the wooden building told her he was working. Now, whether he’d been working on an actual task or working off his moodiness, she couldn’t tell, but she’d left him alone. And people said she didn’t know how to give others space.

It hadn’t been easy though. Really. Like this morning. When she’d stumbled into the living area, Grant was there looking as sexy and edible as ever. His smile had been a little tighter than usual, but it wasn’t enough for her to make a big deal out of it. Actually, there were so many things she liked about him, she wouldn’t have minded if he had glared at her all day.

Because the minotaur was too fucking cute. For instance, he cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner and didn’t expect her to help, which she wouldn’t have done anyway. Her idea of cooking was to grab a dozen candy bars and chow down. At home, food was cooked by the men paying their tithes and she never had to go near the cooking fire except to eat. It didn’t hurt that Grant was also a great chef. She called him a chef because Grant managed to cook meals without meat and made them so good she didn’t even notice the lack.

Rosetta would laugh her ass off if she could see Izzy now.

Then, as if it wasn’t bad enough that Grant was like this cooking guru, he was a hard worker. All day long, he’d sat in front of his laptop with his reading glasses perched on his nose and gone over expense reports, assignment case files, and the schematics of the upcoming Ball. Those glasses made him look like a naughty professor, and it took considerable willpower not to ask him to spank her. She shook her head and concentrated on something else.

She…admired him. He was smart, efficient, and good-natured. She liked the way he dealt with his employees, being both stern and friendly. That assistant of his seemed too friendly in Izzy’s opinion, but Grant didn’t notice, so she didn’t say anything.

Flipping through television stations, Izzy felt like a complete slacker compared to the minotaur. Of course, she was constantly fighting a raging case of lust, but that didn’t count for much compared to his accomplishments. He was a business owner, a very successful one who also kept his ranch in tip-top shape. She had trouble keeping up with oil changes on her car. She’d never thought herself as lacking in anything before, but she hadn’t met someone like Grant before either.

Irritated at her thoughts, she tossed the remote to the side. Grant was on the phone with one of his employees.

She was so fucking bored!

She really wanted to take care of the itch being around Grant gave her. She was so fucking horny, she felt like a teenage boy on prom night. It was pathetic!

Izzy eyed the room she considered hers. Her BOB was in there…if she could get Grant out of the house for a little while, she could handle up on this lust. Her nipples tingled at the thought of an orgasm. It wouldn’t be the same as getting an orgasm from Grant, but sometimes a girl had to make do with what she had at…her hand. But she needed Grant to leave. Izzy was loud when she was feeling perfectly fine. She was a screamer when she had an orgasm.

So without fulfillment, she met Grant for lunch, trying to ignore how attractive he was and how much she wanted to go all cowgirl on him. The food was good, of course, but later, sitting across from Grant, she couldn’t remember a thing she ate.