The Sorceress Screams (29 page)

He shook his
head once. Desmond started away without looking back.

Veronika
hissed under her breath.
“Asshole.
Gorgeous, pompous
asshole
.”

That about summed it up.

****

“
Veronika
acted like I ought to know who she was,” I said
after ten minutes of strained silence in Desmond’s car.

Without other
passengers, I’d had no excuse to sit in the back seat. I was stuck feet from
him within reaching distance. His pink cheeks had faded. I no longer had the
urge to question him as to the reason behind them.

Desmond
glanced in my direction.

“She said to
contact her if her family could help, but I don’t even know her surname,” I
said.

“Fontaine.”

Of course he’d
have learned her surname. She’d been living with him for the past week,
probably sleeping in his bed. And the heartless dick had sent her away.

“Her aunt is
one of the regional high priestesses of Neptune’s Fellowship,” he said. “She
comes from a long line of powerful witches.”

All the
better to make little Desmond
Marinos
. So why had he sent her away? Unless he’d
successfully impregnated her and was making her family deal with the aftermath?
It wasn’t uncommon for the males of their race to wash their hands of children.
My disgust with him was renewed.

“I didn’t
sleep with her.”

I lifted my
eyes in surprise at his sudden admission. “I didn’t say anything.” But then I
felt
it. I snapped the empathic link
back at him and snarled. “Don’t
do
that!”

“It’s second
nature.” His innocent tone wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Bullshit it
is! You don’t do it all the time therefore it can’t be.”

“Her dramatics
today were because she knew she’d lost her chance to win me over.”

“You’re
clearly gay,” I said under my breath.

Desmond
inhaled one of his irritated huffs through his nose. “Because I refuse to take
advantage of a damsel in distress, I must be homosexual?”

He was dodging
the topic again. “No, you’re homosexual because she’s a hot little blonde with
perfect hair and fabulous fashion sense
who
is from a
pure bloodline and you didn’t impregnate her.”

“Neptune’s
Fellowship doesn’t hold to the old ways.”

“How could it
when their high priest is gay?”

“I’m. Not.
Gay.”

The vehement
punctuation of each word startled me as much as the fact he’d finally given me
a straight answer.

“Were you
asleep when I tried to kiss you, Ms. Walsh?”

My breath
stalled. I’d thought he’d want to forget that had happened. Yet here he was
reminding me of it.

When I failed
to reply his voice went sour. “Or just drunk?”

I’d been fully
awake and painfully sober when Desmond had brought my fingers so close to his
lips that there could be no question what he’d meant to do to them. But I
wouldn’t admit that to him.

“After the
help I’ve extended to you, I think you owe me the truth,” he said coolly. “Why
did you leave that night?”

“A family
emergency came up.” It was the same answer I’d given him before—the truth, this
time spoken in a wooden voice.

“Before that,”
he said without looking at me. “Why did you jump away from me?”

This was the
first time he’d asked this particular question. How would I evade him this
time?

Desmond faced
me when I didn’t immediately respond. “Consider one of your favors cashed in if
you answer me with the truth.”

“The song,” I
whispered.

His eyebrows
drew together in confusion. “What song?”

“Etta James.”
I croaked. “‘Sunday Kind of Love’, I…”

I folded
myself as far into the corner as I could because I was suddenly cold. The truth
to cancel out one of the many favors I owed him seemed reasonable. So I gave
Desmond nearly the entire truth. “Someone I knew long ago kissed me for the
first time while that song played. He’s taunted me for years with it. I freaked
when I heard it in your kitchen because I thought maybe, as insane as it
sounds, he was there taunting me.”

It wasn’t
insane because Trip could
Voidwalk
to any place in
the world and hide in the Spirit Realm. And he now had a bracelet that let him
alter things in the Mortal Realm though he himself couldn’t cross over. But I
couldn’t explain that to Desmond.

He returned
his attention to the road where it should have been. “I thought it was because
you hate me.”

Maybe it was
the reminder of what I’d read on his phone that night about him “sexing” me for
the crystal, but I heard myself mumble an answer. “It should have been.”

Desmond
stiffened, having heard me. And that was how he remained for the entire two-hour
drive back to
Wipuk
.

Chapter Twenty-One

With a few
hours to spare before the holiday festivities, I had plenty of time to take a
long shower and do a load of laundry. I even did the dishes that had
accumulated over the past week. The mindless domestic chores gave me too much
time to think.

Had I made a
large misstep by telling Desmond the truth? Why had he asked about that night
in the first place? He disliked me as much as I disliked him. He’d only been
using me to get at the crystal, and now he wanted me to be his mole. Strangely
he’d yet to utilize my new access to learn Max’s secrets. The Nadir Khan issue
must have taken precedence. Sooner or later Desmond would call in his other
favors.

The question
had probably come from his need to soothe his ego. Women
chatted
him up, they got grabby with him, and they pleaded with him. They didn’t freak
out when he touched their hands. But then I wasn’t a normal woman. I’d grown up
in the Underworld.

Knowing I’d
probably be outside in the heat for several hours, I dressed in a short black
cotton skirt and orange silk tank top, choosing a pair of my black retro dot
thigh highs to wear beneath it. Yes, I looked like a walking Halloween
advertisement, but at least I’d be comfortable. I’d stepped into my
mary-janes
when the knock sounded at the door.

Ali Mac’s dark
hair and reflective glasses were visible in the peephole. His pick-up truck had
pulled in behind Desmond’s BMW earlier in the parking lot, proving the dark
truck I’d spotted several times today had indeed belonged to the werewolf. Should
I be angry or relieved Max was having his lackey guard me even in Phoenix? I
backtracked to my purse and then opened the door for him.

“Max wanted
you to be there when he woke,” Ali Mac said.

A glance at
the microwave told me it was seven thirty. There was still an hour and a half
before the sun would begin to set. I’d have to hang around Max’s house for an
hour, bored simply because he wanted me to be there “when he woke”? I grunted
but joined the werewolf on the porch all the same.

His truck smelled
like fast food fries and coffee, a combination that reminded me I hadn’t really
eaten anything today. I’d only been able to stomach a quarter of a slice of
toast before I’d given up and focused on the coffee.

Maybe I’d see
about eating something at Max’s place. He probably had refreshments for his
party. I could load up on hors d’oeuvres before he sent my stomach into a
flutter with his sexy voice and thrilling fingers.

Ali Mac parked
the truck in the cul-de-sac in front of Max’s house so he could see me inside
himself. He took me down the one corridor I’d yet to visit. The open arch hid a
set of stone triangular steps that wrapped down and around a corner. I followed
behind him into the dimly lit space. My breath quickened in concern that we’d
enter into a crypt with honest to Hera coffins.

The deeper we
went, the cooler it grew, perhaps because we were beneath the surface. We
passed several doors, one of which was made of glass and revealed the interior
of a standard wine cellar, not at all crypt-like.
Another
sporting complex metal contraptions
appeared to be the exercise room.
Ali Mac knocked on the heavy wooden door set within the arched frame at the
corridor’s end. Wrought iron candelabras flanked the entrance as if to mark it
as important.

Ali Mac must
have heard something. He twisted the doorknob and then motioned for me to go
inside. “He’ll be right with you.”

I stood
dumbly. The sun hadn’t set. How could Max be right with me? And where exactly
was I?

At the
werewolf’s impatient wave, I scurried through the arched door into a softly lit
… bedroom. My mouth parted in surprise upon spotting the wooden framed bed with
the rich tangerine waved canopy. The saffron comforter was wrinkled and turned
down at one corner while the merlot pillows had an impression of a head. The
whole place smelled of lavender, sand, cedar, and moss—of Max.

Through an
open door the patter of water droplets against fiberglass implied the shower
was going. Someone had neglected to tell me the all-important information that
vampires could wake
before
the sun
set.

I dropped into
the merlot-colored armchair beside the door. The space was elegant while still
managing to be masculine with its dark wood and heavy wrought iron wall
hangings. On the wall to my right was a fresco of a Spanish street lit by a noontime
sun. Ivy hung around it to give it a lifelike appearance.

“
Hola
.
Rebecca.”

My attention
snapped to the bathroom door where Max stood dripping fresh from his shower. A
towel covered only enough to leave me wondering. I immediately remembered what
had happened between us last night. A flush worked its way through my cheeks.

“I thought I’d
be bored for an hour or so,” I said.

“Bored?
With me?”
Max chuckled softly. “I don’t think so.”

The wicked
promise in his eyes had me stammering. “I m-meant I didn’t know you’d be
awake.”

“Ah,” he said
a little flatly while resuming patting his skin with the soft fabric. “The
older we are, the earlier we wake.”

How old did that make him
?

“Dr. Marino
behaved himself?”

Max’s neutral
question caught my attention. “He was his usual annoying self.”

“Good.”

He sauntered
across the room with the towel swaying from side to side, offering a glimpse of
what I’d seen once before. The vampire stopped in front of the chair. He took
my hand with his free one, lifting me to my feet inches from his nearly nude
frame. Curling the hand around my waist, he pulled me against him. One silent
beat he stared into my eyes. Heat built between us.

Max released
the towel and fisted the freed hand into my hair. I sighed in pure bliss as his
lips set against mine and curved into a knowing smile. His tongue slipped into
my mouth, swirling in that masterful way that made me weak. Faster than I could
follow, he had me on the bed, his long body covering mine. My heart’s startled
jump drew a groan from him.

He pulled his
head up, giving me the full measure of his heated chocolate
gaze
.
“Please. Rebecca. I can wait no longer.”

Now I
understood why he’d wanted me here early. He’d wanted to demand this before his
guests arrived.

My mind raced
for a reason I should refuse him. There were plenty but none worth his ire.
Instead I pushed my hand into his damp sable locks to bring his lips back to
mine.

He groaned
against my mouth.
“Gracias a Dios.”

Though the
evidence of his arousal already pressed on my belly, Max didn’t immediately
strip me. He kissed me deeply, tongue swirling clear to my throat. It shouldn’t
have been sexy, but Hera
help
me, it was.

His fingers
danced up my thigh, playing with my thigh highs’ elastic band as he had last
night. I writhed and whimpered at his cool, teasing touch. He muttered how much
he liked the silky garments and how they’d stay on after he’d stripped me.

This was really going to happen
.

My breath
hitched. If he’d heard it, he ignored it. Max nudged my tank top’s strap aside
so he could kiss my bare shoulder. His tongue passed over my skin. I arched
into his mouth as his fingers scrabbled with the hook and zipper behind my
waist.

He deposited
kisses along my collarbone to my chest, skimming between my breasts on his way
to my waistband. Quick efficiency was applied to the skirt’s removal.
Max paused to gaze at me, grinning before he deposited a kiss just
above the lacy line of my orange silk panties.

I let out a
soft gasp as heat spilled down my stomach to meet his mouth. His nose nudged
the tank top’s surged band as he
laved
his tongue
over my belly. He paid close attention to my side, nibbling on the tender skin
until I’d cried out. It was the foreplay for the foreplay.