Her Lycan Lover (10 page)

In the very next instant the energy cementing the particles of her body together abated and she rapidly focused her mental acumen across the room. Only the molecules from her body were attuned to this vibration that hovered in a point tinier than the tip of pin. This type of focused conjuring took up all her concentration. Time, as most beings on Earth perceived, waffled and with ancient incantations she could walk in between the realms of existence, gliding through a shimmering doorway that opened to her.

Today, she reconfigured her physical being in the time it took Quinn to blink. A sweep of his lashes and she was gone. From being pressed up against him, she’d slipped into an offshoot of the ley highway, and moved what seemed like a few inches. Then back through a ley energy portal. A doorway of sorts. Puff. It was as though she’d morphed across the room, and stood in front of the wet bar.

A look of shock spread across his face instead of hers. She’d slipped from his grip without so much as a twitch of her muscle. It was volition and she’d not conjured to relocate a body in space in years while a witness was around. Well, except for yesterday. Twice in less than twenty-four hours.
Shit!

Pressing her hands to her forehead, she wiped her fingers over her brows. Jeez, she had not needed to use her powers for her personal use until this moment when she thought she would succumb to Quinn’s advances. Her body radiated from the energetic reconfiguration. She chanced a speedy glance down her body to verify she’d gotten it right. Nothing backward, missing, or an additional appendages coming through a portal. Sherry wiggled her fingers just a slight assurance that things were working as she remembered.

Then she heard. “What the fuck?”

Oh yeah, it was about to rain down buckets of disbelief. “Please. Hear me out.”

“What in the world are you capable of Sher?” Quinn took a step toward her with his palms facing up. “I’ve never had a woman want to escape from my embrace to the point of dissolving into thin air. What the hell just happened?”

“It wasn’t dissolving. What I mean is I didn’t dissolve. Merely transferred my physical presence. From one reality into another, and then back. Time and space aren’t rigid. It’s physics… not fantasy.”

“Physics, my arse,” he swore. “You and I need to talk. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know you and I have more to discuss than financial reports and who’s on first base at some bachelor party. Is this what you do when you’re off from work?”

“Don’t get excited. I haven’t done anything like that in years. If you discount yesterday.” She waved her hands at the confusion blanketing his face. “Look, it just happened. Please, Quinn, can we just forget it. I promise it won’t happen again. You’re overreacting and considering you’re a shifter, that’s rather provincial wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh so, it’s okay for you to bend the rules. I should have known you weren’t as tight-laced as you pretend. I do respond to a simple ‘no’ from a lady.” Glowering, he picked up his mug of coffee and took a long slow sip, eyeing her over the rim. After shaking his head, he moved from his position at her desk. “Here, take your seat back. I don’t want to force you into another disappearing act.”

The tension had ratcheted way up between them. She considered for a moment how unusual her little stunt was on a scale of one to ten. If he were a regular guy, one hundred and ten. But he was Lycan for Christ’s sake and off the charts on many issues. Still, what she did kinda rocked. Was it an eleven in his world? More likely a twelve. No wonder Quinn stared at her without blinking.

She arched a brow. “Don’t you do something of the sort? I mean shifting is pretty much the same.”

“Doll, vanishing into thin air is hardly the same. Now you see me, now you don’t. No. Sherry. Guess again.”

It wasn’t exactly disappearing. Not that she couldn’t. But that was downright crass. Bodies changing from human to primal form was no different than a welt rising and falling in her mind. Shifters’ contorting forms were accepted on certain limited terms by humans. That was one reason why the Downtown Den existed, giving all sorts of shapeshifters a place to go when their urge to hunt and mate became unbearable. Why did he continue to stare at her with such a look of utter disbelief?

“Don’t treat me like you’ve had your face slapped. I felt trapped is all. I’m not some carnival act. Are you going to pretend you don’t know about spellcasters.”

His jaw dropped. “Really. Well that explains so very much about you.” His eyebrow quirked, his whole arrogant manner egged her on.

“You’ve an overpowering way about you. I’m not ready to… have sex. In my office,” she quickly added.

“I wasn’t going to ravage you. From your moans, you seemed pretty fired up. And all this time, you’re a spellcaster. I wished you’d told me sooner.”

She refused to tap into his awareness. That would be grounds for a resounding lecture by the Sisterhood Council in protocol. “I bet you’re thinking, is that
how I get so much done?
Don’t bother. I’ve heard it all. Really, Quinn. Is that how you’ve been accepted? Like a freak of nature?”

“No,” he said in low voice.

“Liar. Some of those so-called
normal
people treat shifters with disdain. My God how can you forget the laws in place, ordinances that dictate no public shifting permitted in city limits? How does that make you feel?”

Shawn headed a newly formed justice council designed to effectively provide shifters with the means to address civic concerns without resorting to violence. Nascent in terms of existence, but each state now had a justice council thanks to Shawn’s clan. Even Quinn was intrinsic to the running of the justice council and being a well-versed attorney. She knew the law. He ate, slept, and worked the law. She crossed her arms over her chest, and clenched her jaw.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. Way off base. I’m just in shock. I’d thought you were…a woman.”

“I am,” she snapped. “I’m just a little different. I’m… a spellcaster
. Third level
.” There she’d said it. The truth she’d kept bottled up for years. She struggled to stop from shouting the words. But in the end, the truth came out a soft whisper. “A regular conjurer working nine-to-five.”

“Excuse me. You’re what?” he roared. “Jesus H. Christ! Full-blooded. I thought you meant you had a great-great-great aunt somewhere in your lineage. Let me see the mark. To prove you’re a full-blooded spellcaster. I know there’s a secret mark.”

“Stop shouting. Is that so hard to believe?”

“In a word. Yes!”

“What you think I’m not capable?” This was insane, yet how could she turn back when he had her so riled. She tugged her blouse from the waist of her skirt and lifted, peeling down the waistband down displaying the iridescent line that had become redder today.

“That’s not what I expected. Why don’t you have a tattoo?”

“No tattoo or branding.” She had an angry looking scar. “At times it bleeds, but not right now. Happy?”

“An altered type of stigmata.” He whispered, racking a hand through his hair. “Don’t you belong in an abbey or some Covent? I thought your kind weren’t allowed to roam free. Aren’t you supposed to be kept under lock and key?”

“False, Einstein,” she said. “There aren’t any rules for
my kind
as you so adroitly phrased it.” Obviously, he knew something of conjurers.
Her kind
existed for as long as mankind,
if not longer
minus the royally decreed pedigree. “Honestly, Quinn, I thought you of all beings would understand. A Lycan. And talk about throwing stones? You’ve heaving boulders. This is just freaking great.”

He paced in front of her desk, every now and then glancing over at her. “Sherry, you first evaporate right before we’re about to… you know. And then, you spring this revelation on me. Sure, I’ve had to deal with hatred as a shifter, a Lycan, for a hell of a long time. This is simple shock. I don’t think we’ve gone through all the same issues. Your type of spellcasters don’t make themselves known. This is a revelation on several levels, doll.”

“Then you know why I don’t go around and blare this out to everyone. You’ve lived with prejudice. I also understand firsthand hatred. It’s the reason we’re under the radar. People talk of
magic
.
Hocus pocus. Sorcery
. Let’s not forget the quacks. That’s what’s sold down on Market Street. In those sordid shops where fakes read tarot cards to predict the future. Casters manifest energy. Short and simple. This isn’t a rabbit coming out of a hat. Only the knowledge of the physical world coupled with ancient incantations and my spiritual faith.”

“Believe it or not, I’m acquainted with the existence of sacred casters. I doubt I’d mistake your devotion for some form of paganism. It’s been centuries, but I knew a few during the time of ancient Rome and Greece, on both sides. And yes, completely different.”

“Did you hit your head last night, Quinn?” Ancient Greece and Rome
?
He couldn’t be. She studied him. Never had she actually met one. “You aren’t really saying you’re a
Cairo
. A Midnight Lycan?”

He pseudo bowed. “At your service, doll.”

Casters avoided sensual temptation. A Midnight Lycanthrope existed in one state: strong as maraging steel and proficient in all erotic arts. An immortal. If that were true, he would be irresistible to a caster after one kiss.
My God, what had I done?

“You could have warned me,” she whispered.

“Would you have listened?”

“This isn’t wholly about you.” She wished, facing the
Quinn-tessence
of carnal cravings. Her luck. Midnight Lycans were all about seduction and in the world of decadent desire, Quinn was at the top of the food chain.

“What was I going to say? The idea of us was inconceivable to me.”

So tantalizing, she shivered at the mere contemplation of his prowess, and then gasped. “All this time hardly constitutes a hazard sign. Not a word. Does Shawn know?”

“It would be damn hard to hide from another shifter.”

“Is that why you hang here at night?” For a heartbeat, she honestly tossed back and forth the possibilities.

“No. And I thought you were so damn proficient in nailing the truth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“About me. My kind. We’re not exactly looking for a good time. And what I do here at night may have something to do with you.”

“You’re being obtuse. Look, I might as well lay it all out there. We both know there’s a symbiotic relationship possible between… men and women such as us.”

“For a very few.” Quinn searched her face. The heat from his eyes transfixing her. “Extremely rare.”

His voice echoed inside her. He was the embodiment of dark desire, the Midnight whispering within her bloodstream, taking hold of her, sinking into the marrow of her bones.

She had to fight this feverish craving to let go and let Quinn in. She swallowed. “That’s true. So rare, what we feel must be nothing more than lust. I don’t know of anyone. More like a myth. A fairy tale.” She didn’t want to give into this unstoppable instinct to make love to him.

He spoke the truth. She’d grown up in the midst of women and girls. Heard stories, myths until this very moment, and never thought that she’d meet her own Cairo. Her own taste of seduction. Or destruction.

“We shouldn’t play with fire,” she said, her voice unsteady.

“That’s the problem, doll. I’m. Not. Playing.”

Midnight Lycan. One day. The shifter charged with her protection. Her guide. Soul mate had been a term whispered, giggled, and had been a girlhood fantasy.

“Quinn, let this drop. It’s a mere coincidence we work here. That doesn’t mean a thing. I belong to the Sisterhood of casters. A worldwide guild that goes beyond simple incantations or the glorification of the Horned God. We’re an organized council that now even offers health insurance for full-time casters. When I get to the fifth level there are perks, vacation time, and an annual all-expense paid conference in Hawaii no less.”

“Really. And how’s that working out for you? So far. Keeping you out of trouble. Safe and sound. What does the Sisterhood offer exactly in so far your safekeeping? What do they get and give?”

“I can’t tell you all that. There were secret ceremonies, tithes to keep track of and pay, and sacrifices undertaken. Spellcasters are recruited for their ability to maintain an agreed upon equilibrium for the world, evoking lasting cause and effect reactions to preserve order between the forces. Whether deemed good or evil, light or dark, depends upon which side of the proverbial fence one sits on. The Sisterhood isn’t some club or hobby. We watch out for each other and there are rules. Something you don’t seem to care about or abide by.”

This probably made no sense to him. The purpose of the Sisterhood Council of conjurers was to maintain order for nature, a type of balance as it presided on Earth. This is where the Sisterhood had been delivered at the creation of humanity. This was their realm to protect. They served the Goddess of the Elements, and the God of Energy in human form. Spellcaster names were sacred and unspoken outside the sacred shaped structures. So sacred Sherry and her sisters kept their names from their thoughts.

She couldn’t tell Quinn everything. Each and every season, she went away to take care of her conjurer requirements and relished spending time with other sisters in the spiritual devotion celebrating nature, the god and goddess of the Earth along with otherworldly forces. She had hoped to move up to a level four by the winter solstice. Would he think that she’d made a grave mistake? Not once, but twice. He already could hardly believe she was a spellcaster. If she told him she botched up her post, he’d probably roll his eyes. And what happened today might be a beacon the Sisterhood would notice. Coupled with yesterday, she was certain she’d hear from the High Priestess. If not tonight, then soon.

She might as well begin plans for her own damage control. Last night it had taken hours to repair the shield and still the patch was faulty. One small incantation to turn back time resulted in several tears and she’d barely gotten any sleep. Tonight, after work, she’d return to the elevator shaft and figure out how bad a situation existed. During the day, it was too risky; even in the old condemned building, there were still people milling around outside. At night, rarely did she come across anyone.