Dime Store Magic (51 page)
to see his hand arc above us. A low thrumming drowned out the radio, then a fog of purple and blue light rose from the floor.
"Tell me that isn't the koyut," I murmured against his mouth.
He chuckled and slid his fingers between my thighs, teasing. I arched back and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the fog was wafting toward us. It touched my arm first, sending a tingle of energy through it. I gasped. Cortez chuckled again and pushed his fingers into me. The fog wrapped around us. Every hair on my body rose and I pressed my head into the sheets, luxuriating in the sensation.
"That is—" I gasped after a few minutes. "You have to teach me that."
He smiled, pulled out his fingers and slid on top of me. "I'll teach you anything you want."
Good Morning
AFTERWARD, I DISENTANGLED MYSELF FROM THE SHEETS
and his arms, and got to my feet. He lifted his head and frowned.
"Wait," I said.
I went to the cold cellar and grabbed a bottle of wine. When I returned, Cortez was still wrapped in the clean sheets, watching me.
"Good?" I said, holding out the bottle.
"Hmmm?" He blinked, then looked at the bottle. "Oh, yes. Wine.
Good. Great."
I laughed. "I suppose I'd be insulted if it
was
the wine you were staring at."
He grinned then, a slow lazy grin that did something to my insides.
"Guess I'm still in shock," he said.
"Don't tell me I'm the first damsel in distress who's ever seduced you."
"I can say, with absolute certainty, that you are the first woman who has ever even
tried
to seduce me, on or off a case." He reached for the bottle. "Do you need a corkscrew for that?"
"Of course not. I'm a witch."
I said a few words and the cork flew out.
"I don't suppose you know how to conjure glasses," I said.
"Sorry."
"The kitchen's so far away. Do we need glasses?"
"Absolutely not."
He hooked his arm around my waist and pulled me down onto his lap.
We each took a drink from the bottle.
"I'm sorry about your bike," I said.
"My… ? Oh, right. As I said, it's nothing. I had insurance."
"Still, I am sorry. I know replacing it won't be the same thing, if you restored it and all."
"
If
I restored it?"
"I didn't mean—"
He chuckled. "You don't need to explain. I'm well aware that I hardly seem the type to be tinkering with transmissions and carburetors. To be honest, short of that particular hobby, my mechanical skills approach nil."
"You can hot-wire cars."
Another chuckle. "Yes, I suppose there's that. As for the motorcycles, one of my mother's boyfriends got me started restoring them when I was Savannah's age. At first, I must admit, I took it up in hopes it would add a certain cachet to my social life."
"You hoped it would help you pick up chicks. Did it?"
"Hardly. I quickly outgrew that notion. Or so I thought, though I must admit that part of my motivation in choosing to take the motorcycle to the funeral home was a semiconscious desire to present myself in a more attractive light."
"I was very impressed."
He fell back onto the sheets and laughed, startling me. "Oh, I could tell.
You were
very
impressed. About as impressed as you were when you discovered I was the son of an infamous Cabal CEO."
"The heir to an infamous Cabal CEO."
I said it teasingly, but the humor drained from his eyes. He nodded and reached for the wine bottle.
"I'm sorry," I said. "New topic. So, where do you live?"
"Back to the heir question first. It's true and it's not a subject I want to avoid. I want to be honest with you, Paige. I want—" He hesitated. "My father has very good reasons for naming me heir, reasons that have nothing to do with me and everything to do with the politics of succession and keeping my older brothers in line."
"A purely strategic decision? I can't believe that."
"My father harbors some delusions regarding the nature of my rebellion. He's wrong. I will never be the employee—or leader—of any Cabal. Nor am I naive enough to take the reins of leadership in hopes of reforming it into a legitimate business."
"Is it true—" I shook my head. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry—"
"It's not prying, Paige. I'd be far more concerned if you didn't care. Ask away. Please."
"About the bounty. Is it true? I mean, if you're in danger—"
"I'm not. Or, if I am, it's a permanent situation and nothing that impacts the present circumstances. No one in Nast's organization would dare collect such a reward. Let me say, first, that Leah has a tendency to get her facts confused. My fathers wife and my three half-brothers do not all have contracts out on me. Last I heard, only Delores and my eldest brother were offering bounties. Carlos, the youngest, did at one time, but recent debts have forced him to withdraw the offer. As for William, he's never tried to hire anyone to kill me, probably because he hasn't the wits to think of it."
"Are you serious?"
"About William? Unfortunately. He's intelligent enough, but lacks initiative."
I bumped his shoulder. "Ha-ha. You know what I mean. The bounty.
You're serious?"
"Quite, though I wouldn't suggest you mention it to my father. He's quite convinced he cleared this matter up years ago. Killing the bastard heir is absolutely forbidden. Any family member caught attempting it will be severely punished. He tried threatening them with death, but that didn't work, so he revised it to the worst possible fate: disinheritance."
"You guys raise the dysfunctional family to a whole new level, don't you?"
"The Cortezes have always been overachievers."
We passed the bottle again.
"You asked where I lived," he said.
"Right."
"I believe the standard expression for my situation is 'no fixed address.'
Since graduating, I haven't been in one place long enough to even sublet an apartment. My work—legal and otherwise—keeps me on the move.
With my extracurricular activities, I'm obviously ill suited for a steady job at a law firm. Instead, I do piecemeal legal work for supernaturals."
"Lawyer to the paranormal."
"Almost as bad as 'superhero,' isn't it? It provides me enough to live on, no more and no less. More importantly, it gives me the opportunity to do what I really want."
"Save the world?"
"Something which I'm sure you know nothing about."
"Hey, I don't want to save the
whole
world. Just my corner of it."
He laughed and tightened his arms around me. We kissed for a few minutes, then I reluctantly pulled back.
"I want to know more," I said. "About you, about what you do. But I suppose we should get some sleep."
"Probably. If these last two days have been any indication, we'll need our rest." He reached over and retrieved his glasses, then looked at me.
"Any chance we can avoid separate sleeping quarters tonight? I know Savannah's presence is a concern—"
"One easily handled by a locking spell or two."
The next morning I awoke to find myself alone. At first I thought Cortez slipped out in the night and returned to the sofa. Which would be a bad sign. But, as I stretched, I noticed his side of the bed was still warm.
I glanced at the clock. Eleven A.M.? I hadn't slept this late since college. No wonder Cortez was up.
I tumbled from bed, still groggy, pulled on my kimono, and headed for the bathroom. The door was ajar, so I gave it a shove and whacked it against Cortez, who was bent over the sink, shaving.
"Sorry," he said.
"For what? Standing near a door?"
A small smile. "For leaving the door open, thereby causing you to believe the room was vacant." He waved to the mirror, which was fogged from his shower. "I opened it for some air. I couldn't find the—"
I flicked a switch outside the door and a whoosh filled the room.
"Ah, the fan," he said.
"Lousy setup," I said. "I'll be in my room. Just knock when you're done."
Before I could leave, he grabbed my arm, tugged me inside, and closed the door. Then he pulled me against him and lowered his mouth to mine.
Well, that certainly alleviated any "morning after" awkwardness.
I kissed him back, wrapping my hands around his neck. Tendrils of damp hair tickled my fingers. The clean tang of soap filled my nose.
When my tongue slipped into his mouth, I tasted mint. Toothpaste.
I jerked back and slapped my hand over my mouth. "I have to brush my teeth." As I spun to face the mirror, I caught sight of my hair, which frizzed out in a way that could only be called "witchy."
"Shit! My hair!"
Cortez wrapped a handful around his fist and bent to kiss my neck. "I love your hair."
"Which is more than you can say for my breath."
As I reached for the toothpaste, he turned me around.
"Your breath is fine."
Then, as if to prove it, he kissed me again, deeper this time, lifting me up onto the counter and pressing against me. I slid my fingers under his open shirt, to push it off his shoulders, but he caught my hands.
"This, I believe, is my seduction," he said. "Not, of course, that I wish to discourage you from taking the initiative in future. Nor to discourage you from disrobing me or from disrobing yourself, particularly in the…