Magic at Midnight (18 page)

“Funny that it wasn’t too long ago you
protested
taking my advice,” Glory said.

“Isn’t it?”

“It is. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I can’t.” She tapped a nail against her glass, and the red liquid swished. “Not if I’m being honest.”

His lips pursed. Did she truly think so poorly of him? Of course she did, he thought in the next instant. He’d once told her that he hated witches. He’d once told her that he would pay her back for all she’d done to him.

Worry about that later. When she’s naked and under you. Or over you. Right now, you have to push her
. “I’m thinking about showing Kayla my favorite… gladiator costume. Does
that
surprise you?”

Hunter choked on his water. Romeo nodded encouragingly. Evie, Godiva, and Kayla leaned forward, obviously intrigued.

Glory gasped at the reminder of the night she’d written him into a slave’s cell, splattered with blood and fresh from battle.

“I’m learning things about you I wish you’d kept hidden,” Hunter muttered.

“Shut it,” Falon told him.

“Why don’t you show her your jackass costume?” Glory asked through clenched teeth. “Oh, wait. You’re already wearing it.”

Okay, he’d walked into that one. Had she been talking about anyone else, he would have laughed. He loved her wit. And she must love warriors. Why else would she have written him into such a situation?

He racked his brain for things he knew about ancient Rome. Not much. Everything he knew, he knew because of Russell Crowe. “For the woman I desire, I would be willing to do anything.” The words were a dare, a challenge.

“A few flicks of my wrist, and I can make you prove those words. Violently.”

Do it
. “Please.” He snorted. “You’ve run out of ink, and we both know it.”

She leaned forward, curls spilling onto the table. Oh, she was lovely. “Do you
want
to die?”

“Yes. Of pleasure.”

Her pupils dilated, and her nostrils flared. Just then, she was like a living flame, fury crackling over her skin.
I’m close. So close. Just a little more
.

“Maybe you’d like to visit a village of Vikings? Or maybe you’d like to come face-to-face with a Highland chieftain and his sword?”

“If that turned you—her on, then yes.”

Glory ran her tongue over her teeth. Every muscle in his body jerked at the sight of that pink tongue. Oh, to have it on
him
.

“It would,” Kayla said. “It really would. What do I have to do to get in on this action? I’d prefer a Viking over a chieftain, but will graciously accept whichever you give me.”

Slowly, Glory eased back in her seat. Slowly, she grinned, though the expression lacked any type of humor. “I think something can be arranged. For you,” she added, eyeing Falon, “not her.”

“Please,” Kayla said at the same time he said, “Fine. I understand.” He was thinking,
Finally!

As she reached inside her purse, Falon added, “Oh, and Glory?”

“Yes?” Grin feral, she lifted the pen and tapped it against her chin—to taunt him, he wouldn’t doubt. Fire still raged in her eyes.

Are you really going to do this
? He peered at her heaving chest, her dilated pupils, her lush, red lips.
Hell, yes.
“Since I’m doubting you have the courage to write yourself into the scene, I guess I’ll see you when I get back.”

Her eyelids narrowed, and she lost her grin.

He barely stopped himself from laughing.
See you there, baby.

•
Seven
•

H
E
wanted her to write them both into a scene, an oddity on its own. He hadn’t seemed to mind the thought of his precious Kayla being given to another man; he had seemed more interested in Glory. Glory knew all of those shocking things, but she didn’t understand them.

Why had he fought for magic to be used against him? Why had he antagonized her?

Did the reason matter? she thought next. She was at home, alone in her room, and she was going to use the pen. Not to punish Falon—though she wanted to do so. He’d taken another woman to dinner. A beautiful, slender woman. No, Glory was doing this to be with him, to have him to herself. She’d simply used punishment and anger as an excuse.

When will I learn
?

She’d tried to stay away from him. She’d ignored his phone calls, hadn’t ventured near his house. She’d even walked out of a room anytime he had been mentioned. She feared falling so deeply in love with him, she’d never recover. As she’d once told him, they could never trust each other. But she was still going to do this. She craved him, and the craving wasn’t going away.

Despite all of her reasons for avoiding him before, she couldn’t stop herself now. She needed to shove him from her thoughts and dreams, and nothing else had worked. Why not give this a shot and experience another dose of that heady pleasure while she was at it? She’d do her best to guard her heart. Oh, oh. Maybe she could take an antilove potion.

She was nodding as she popped to her feet. Antilove. Of course! There was nothing she could do about the emotions she harbored now. Once there, they were immune to magic. But she
could
prevent herself from falling for Falon completely.

Clothes and trash soared through the air as she crouched on the floor and rooted through them. Every vial she found, she set aside. Love potion Number Nine. Love potion Number Thirteen.

A magic suppressor. A magic unleasher. Ah, finally.

Straightening, she raised a tiny bottle of swirling, azure liquid. There was a warning label in the center.

“Take with food,” she read. “May cause dizziness. If you become sick, consult your nearest witch.”

She’d given the potion to hundreds of women but had never sampled the goods herself. There’d been no need. The recipe had been designed by her great-grandmother and was now used in every spell book she’d ever encountered. It had to work. No one had ever complained.

“Here goes nothing.” Glory popped the cork and drained the contents. Tasteless but smooth. A minute passed. Nothing happened. Another minute. Still nothing. She tossed the empty bottle over her shoulder. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

Frowning, she swiped up the pen and a notebook and plopped onto the side of her bed. What was Falon doing right now? Was he at home with Kayla? Waiting for Glory to act?

What was the couple doing to pass the time?

“Grr!”

Unable to wait any longer, Glory began writing:
Falon is alone in his house, unable to leave.
That took care of Kayla. Glory’s frown faded. She wouldn’t make him battle anyone like he’d suggested. That would make her admire him more. Even the image was dangerous. Falon. With a sword. Her mouth watered.

She’d get straight to the sex. Do him and forget him.
His clothing suddenly disappears, leaving him naked.
As the ink stained the paper, she had trouble drawing in a breath. Her hand was shaking.

Glory appears—

No. She scratched out those two words. Falon was now alone and naked. She couldn’t just appear in front of him looking like this.

Glory weighs one hundred and fifteen pounds and is wearing a lacy, emerald green bra and panty
set
.

One moment she was draped in the black dress her sister had given her, the next, cool air was kissing her bare skin. Glory looked down. Sure enough, her
small
, perky breasts were pushed up by emerald lace. Her stomach and legs were thin and glorious. She grinned and kept writing.

Falon is chained to his bed, and Glory suddenly appears in front of him, pen and notebook in hand
.

Glory’s messy bedroom faded to black, and then Glory was lying against cool, silky sheets. Cold metal anchored her wrists and ankles in place, her pen and notebook gone. A white chiffon flowed overhead, like a cloud descending from heaven.

“What the hell?” She tugged at her arms. The chains rattled but didn’t budge.

Suddenly Falon approached the side of the bed, the pen and notebook in his hands. He looked at Glory, and his eyes widened. He looked at the contraband he was holding, and he grinned.

“It worked,” he said, shocked. “It really worked.”

Her struggles increased. “What worked? What happened? What did you do to me?” What the hell was going on?

He was naked, and his tanned body was magnificent. Rope after rope of muscle, traceable sinew, and a long, hard erection. A glittering necklace hung from his neck.

She looked away from the sheer majesty of him, struggled some more.

“Be still,” he said.

“Go to hell!” The metal began to cut into her skin, drawing warm beads of blood.

Falon
tsked
under his tongue. He strode out of the bedroom, leaving her alone.

“Falon!” she cried. Panic infused every corridor of her body. “Don’t leave me like this! Come back.”

He returned a moment later, the pen and notebook gone. In their place were strips of cloth. “Be still,” he ordered again, sharply this time.

She obeyed. She was panting, skin overly hot. At least he’d covered himself with a robe, blocking all that male deliciousness from her view. “What’s going on? How did you do this? You don’t have any powers.”

He eased beside her, and the mattress jiggled. She tried to scoot away, but the chains didn’t allow her to go very far. “No, I don’t have powers. But I do have a friend who is dating a witch who wants her sister happy.”

Her jaw went slack. “
Evie
helped you?”

Leaning forward and wafting the scent of man and dark spice to her nose, Falon began wrapping the cloth underneath the chains, protecting her skin.
Do not soften
. She’d taken the antilove potion. She shouldn’t have to warn herself to remain distant, but the potion wasn’t freaking working.

“Hunter questioned Evie about the pen,” he finally explained. “Apparently, Evie failed to tell you that she had a charm to counteract the effects of it.”

“I don’t understand.”
Come closer, keep touching me
. She had to bite her lip to keep the words inside.

“Anything negative you wrote about the person wearing the charm would be done to
you
instead.”

Shock sliced through her, as hot as he was. “That’s—that’s—”

“What happened. Hunter also emptied out your potions and replaced them with colored water. Just in case you tried to feed me one.”

So that was why… “That little jackass!” No wonder the antilove potion hadn’t worked. Now she was helpless, on her own. The knowledge should have panicked her all the more. Instead, she found herself praying his robe would split, and she would be able to see his nipples. Maybe lick them.

“I had wondered what kind of scene you would write, and must admit I’m surprised by what you chose. I expected hungry lions or a raging, bloody battle and thought I would have to pluck you from its midst. I’d even draped myself in armor, just in case. Then that armor disappeared and I began to hope…”

Her cheeks flamed; they were probably glowing bright red. She tried to cover her embarrassment by snapping, “Why didn’t my clothing disappear instead? Since you have the charm and all.”

“The removal of clothing isn’t negative.” His head tilted to the side, and his gaze roved over her. He frowned. “Why do you write yourself like that?”

“Like what?”

“So… thin.”

“Because,” was all she said.
Because I want to be pretty for
you
.

“I like you better the other way.”

“Liar. Now write me out of this scene!”

He shook his head. “Hell, no. I’ve got you right where I’ve always wanted you. And I’m not a liar. In fact, I refuse to touch you while you’re like this. When you’re back to normal,
then
the loving can begin.”

A tremor rocked her. She didn’t dare hope… “The chains will disappear by then, too, and if you think I’m staying here, you’re crazy.”

“You can be rechained.”

Good point. “The pleasuring will never begin, because I’ve decided I don’t want you.”

“Now who’s lying?” He pulled a plush lounge next to the bed and sat, gaze never leaving her. “I’ll make a pact with you. I won’t lie to you, if you won’t lie to me. From now on, we’ll be completely honest with each other. Okay?”

“Whatever you say,” she said in a sugar-sweet tone.

“So what do you think of my bedroom?”

“It’s—” She’d been about to say something mean, but then her sights snagged on the crystal chandelier, dripping with thousands of teardrops. On the intricately carved dresser, orchids spilling from vases. A bejeweled tray provided the centerpiece. “Unexpected,” she finally finished.

“Everything inside the house was a gift from my brother.”

Her head snapped toward him. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Falon nodded, his hair dancing over his cheeks. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, but that’s going to change. We’re going to get to know each other, Glory.”

“No.” That would defeat the purpose of loving and leaving. If he continued this, she would leave, but she would not be unscathed.

“Oh, yes,” he insisted. “And every time you reveal a fact about yourself, you’ll earn a reward.”

Goose bumps spread over her skin. “And if I remain quiet?”

Slowly, he grinned. “You’ll earn a punishment. I have the pen, after all.”

This is not fun. This is not exciting. I am not turned on
. “Fine. Tell me how many women you’ve had in here.” There. That should deepen—dampen—her terrible—wonderful—mood.

“You are the first.”

She flashed him a scowl. “I thought we weren’t going to lie to each other anymore.”

“I spoke true. You are the first woman I’ve ever allowed inside this bedroom.”

“What about the fairy? That night—”

He held up a hand for silence. “I sent her home the moment you were out of sight.”

Seriously? Glory didn’t know whether or not to believe him, but she adored the idea of his claim. “What about Kayla?”