Dead Vampires Don't Date (15 page)

The words came so easily. I couldn't make up my mind if I should be proud or horrified. I thought of Aunt Tabs. Horrified, definitely horrified.

"Sounds like a good lawsuit."

"That's what the doctor said." Shit. I grabbed the shot and took a large gulp. My throat burned. My eyes watered. Al whined.

When I could breathe without choking I said, "Thank you for pointing out Snake and Terry the other night. They gave us some good leads." Oh, sweet honesty.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you stopped in today. I wanted to talk to you about your friend. I planned to give Terry a call to see if he had your number." The phone rang. Spike held up a
hang on a moment
finger. He answered the phone.

Why would Spike want to talk to me about the Prince? He hadn't recognized his picture when we'd shown it to him. Maybe he remembered something after Morgan and I left? I hoped he didn't want to contact me for any other reason. 1. I wouldn't understand it. I'd been with Morgan the other night. Drop dead gorgeous Morgan. 2. If he did have another idea in mind it would put a major dent in my wand. I had serious plans for this man.

Al nudged me. His bowl was empty. I held up my water glass. He narrowed his eyes. Spike said something about an order. I poured a small amount of whiskey into Al's bowl.

"You're sure it was a car that hit you?" What was his deal? Maybe he knew someone who had been in an abusive relationship? I knew my injuries were from an attack, but why did Spike keep questioning me?

"It was kind of hard to miss." His gaze never wavered from my face. "Why don't you believe me?" I didn't understand him, although some humans are simply like that. Caring.

"Because after you and your friend left the other night, a man came in asking questions about you."

My stomach took a sharp nose-bleed-producing dive. I swallowed heavily. "What did he look like?" I didn't need the description. I did need a minute to remember to breathe.

"Tall, about six three, long dark coat, short white hair, sunglasses."

Ivan.

"What sort of questions did he ask?" Al abandoned his bowl, he nuzzled his little body into my chest. I pulled him close.

"He had the same picture of your friend. He seemed to think
you
might know where he was." Spike leaned on the counter. "Is there something you want to tell me?" He nodded at my black eye. "I know some people. I can help you."

I wished it were that simple.

"I appreciate your offer. But a car really did hit me." I called on every bit of acting skill in my coven. "The guy you described is a mutual friend. He thought I knew where our friend Xavier might be." I took a sip of water. "I spoke with him later and cleared up that misunderstanding."

I'd lie anyway I could to convince Spike. I couldn't live with myself if he got caught in Ivan's crosshairs too. That arrow with my name on it crept closer and closer every minute.

I downed the rest of the shot. Al growled.

21. Wow. What A Demon.

I said the final words of my spell, closed my Spell Book and studied the window in my HC office. I tried to view it from a non-magical point of view. It didn't work. I'm a witch, can't get around that.

I stepped back, to the side, to the other side and then back again. It looked good to me. As good as the rest of the protection spells I'd cast at
Love Required
. Strong, damn near invisible and they might save my ass. Or at least give me a decent head start if Ivan broke in.

If I'd have cast these spells earlier, Ivan wouldn't have gotten in the night before. They require a great deal of magic though. The deep Cabernet color on my walls had already faded to a soft Zinfandel. Hopefully, that would be the only change to my beloved business.

I'd broken open my piggybank and splurged on a back up broom to keep at work too. If Ivan showed up, I'd given myself the best chance I could.

For the first time I found myself getting angry with Ivan. Really angry. As in PISSED OFF.

I loved that piggybank. I'd found it at a secondhand store. In the shape of a large cauldron with a small green-haired witch standing next to it, it had the words "In Case Of Emergency" written across the front of the cauldron. The words "Mwah, Mwah, Mwah" made up the second line. It had a slot in the top. No cork. So I'd literally had to break it open.

I know that compared to my life, a piggybank is a replaceable object. I also know it makes me appear shallow. And dim-witted. I could cast a spell to fix it, but things are never
exactly the same
once you use magic on it. It also doesn't change the fact that I really, really liked that piggybank and I'd had to break it all because of fuck-head Ivan.

What's more, I also had to take money out of my savings account at the bank to help pay for the broom. I didn't exactly see it as a frivolous expense. It's more of a much needed survival tool. That almost helped counter my anger.

I'd gone for the deluxe model too. Since I planned to keep this one at my office, I'd chosen the one that looked exactly like any other plain yellow-handled broom found in any store.

However, to put the lid on
my
cauldron, it cost more. A whole lot more. My traditional bushy, witch's broomstick that I had at my apartment cost a third of the price! In order to purchase one that would blend in, I had to pay the big bucks.

I'm damn near positive that the magic required to create a PLAIN YELLOW broom does not entail the services of a doctorate level warlock. I'm also fairly certain that the clerk at the magic store had been a year behind me in school. All of those witches hated me.

She'd had me by the broom bristles and she knew it too. There is one magic store that services all the towns in our county. The front has the usual magic tricks, disappearing boxes and wands on display. Behind the counter is a hidden door. That's where all the real magical stuff is kept.

For blending in purposes, I'd had a choice of my plain yellow broom or one made with long stiff bristles. It's impossible to sweep with those.

I plan to ask Teri about the true cost the next time I see her. If that little witch upped the price because I'm mortal . . . Well, let's just say that Aunt Tabs has a beautiful garden full of ripe tomatoes. And after that I'd demand a refund.

Yes. I'm in full ostrich mode.

My visit with Spike earlier had scared me witch-less.

It's so much easier to focus on something else -
anything
else - than Ivan and his REALLY BIG sword. I'd felt that blade against my neck in my dreams last night. I'd take righteous fury regarding marked up brooms over Ivan any day of the week.

The knock at the door resounded loudly through my empty office. I jumped two and a half feet.

Oh shit. Oh fuck.

I double-checked my spells.

The knock came again. Louder this time.

I edged to the side of the office door, peered cautiously through the opening. It was after seven, but the sun had not begun to set yet. I had a clear view of . . . Nothing.

I couldn't make out anyone in my door or through the window.

I whirled around. I didn't see anyone outside of my office window either.

Another loud knock. I stifled a scream. My new broom was in the utility closet. Right next to my harness. Damn it. A little bit of felt and those straps wouldn't chafe. How could I keep doing this to myself?

All that money spent and I wouldn't even have a chance to use that stupid broom.

I wouldn't make it across the room to the closet.
Why had I stuck it in the closet? My spells would slow Ivan down, but not enough if I had to race across the room, open the closet door and pull the broom out. He'd have me by then.

A large, bare forearm stretched across the door window and knocked again. Very loudly.

I knew that arm. It and the attached body visited me nightly in my dreams. The good, hot and sweaty ones, not the bad, awful, I end up dead ones.

Ash.

He must be leaning near the frame, just out of view.

Instead of settling, my pulse kicked into turbo drive.
Ash stood outside my office.
All I had to do was open the door and he would then be inside. My office. Near me. Possibly even touching me.

I whispered the words to allow him through my spells and almost slammed into the door in my haste. My fingers shook as I un-bolted the new lock. I yanked the door open.

"Hi."

Oh Spirits, just zap me now. That's all I could come up with? This demon had held me as if I was precious. Valuable even. And I said "Hi?".

Ash stepped forward until he filled the door. His horns brushed the top of the frame. He reached out one hand slowly, carefully and smoothed the hair back from my face. "Your bruises are gone."

"It's amazing what you can do with a little magic." Oh hell. Did I just toss my hair?

"Your magic is very powerful." He cupped my cheek in his big hand. His heat pulsed into my skin. Campfires filled my mind.

"Any witch can cast a healing spell." And now I was begging for compliments? Why couldn't I appear sophisticated? Simply
not an idiot
would do for now.

Ash stepped forward. I had to step back or get run over. I stepped back. Ash continued forward until he reached the edge of the doorframe. He removed my nerveless fingers from the door and shut it behind him. He locked the door. A firm snick.

My stomach clenched. Hard.

"What has Morgan found out?"

Turns out, Ash has not been out of Hell long. His preferred method of questioning people involves choking them, burning them, or plain killing them. Not a good technique with anyone in the HC. Or as an interrogation method for that matter. In order to get answers, we really did need our suspects alive and preferably able to vocalize their answers.

After discovering this, I'd managed to convince Ash to let Morgan find out what she could about attackers-who-leave-no-trace.

Ash had agreed to stay out of it, provided he got to "help" if Morgan couldn't produce results.

"She didn't find out anything before she had to go to ground this morning." I looked at my wall clock. "She'll be up in another three hours."

"She didn't find anyone who has answers?" It worried me too. Morgan has A LOT of contacts in the HC. And she has been around for a
very long time
. I've never seen her worried before. Concerned, yes. Actually worried? Never.

"No." My throat started to tighten. I didn't bother to say anything else.

"I'm here." He drew me into his embrace. "I won't let anything happen to you." The sincerity in his voice hummed through me.

"You're not always around." The words were out before I knew it. I could've kicked myself. I didn't blame him for last night. Nor did I plan to hint that I would like him to be around more.

Ash was still more of one of those mysteries-coated-with-deception-and-wearing-an-invisible-cloak type of thing.

He disappears during the day. He's a demon - he doesn't have to hide from the sun. He's as good as admitted that his interest in me is two pronged. I could easily lose my heart to him. In certain ways, terrifying me more than Ivan, I might already have. And I could not totally remove him from my list of suspects.

I knew he cared. He couldn't hide that last night. But I also saw his anger. Anger that he cared? Anger that he hadn't been there to protect me? Anger that his plans - whatever they might be - were not going as he planned?

Worst of all, worse than any of his possible schemes, it was beginning to
not
matter that much to me. My sense of self-preservation had deserted me in favor of Ash.

Could I forgive his probable deceptions? Would I like myself if I did? Was I so secretly desperate for love, I could do something like that?

I honestly didn't know and I simply didn't know what to do about it either.

"I should have been there for you last night." He pulled away slightly to lift my chin, look me directly in the eyes. "I should have protected you." His thumb stroked my cheek, clear now of any bruising. "It killed me to see you in pain."

I pushed at his shoulders, needing space. "I'm not blaming you. It wasn't your fault." The longer I stayed close to him, the less my mind thought and the more my hormones snuck out.

Ash's eyes flashed. His body stiffened. He shifted his hands to my back and my ass. He tugged firmly, cupping my ass, tilting it so I had no doubts he was all male demon.

My hormones pulled on their party hats, my mind turn to mush.

Small blue-tipped ruby flames flickered over his shoulders. I hastily moved my hands to his leather vest. "Ash."

"I can't stop it." He growled. "Does it hurt you?"

Fire danced over his skin. Of course it would hurt.

Damn it, I had to try. I could almost touch the flames, but if I got closer than a couple inches my skin began to burn.

"Yes. It hurts." Shit. If flames coated his skin - every part of his skin - I wouldn't have any worries. I wanted Ash desperately, but I wouldn't die for it. That defeated the whole purpose.

He shifted restlessly. His fingers squeezed my ass. Flames trickled slowly down his arms and chest. "I have to touch you."

Sweet Glinda, how I loved that determined tone.

"Can you cast a spell to protect yourself?"

It hadn't occurred to me. I could. Quite easily. One little spell and Ash could touch any part of me he wanted. I wouldn't think of my worries. Of anything, but him. Did I want that?

Oh,
hell yeah
.

I murmured the last word just as the flames reached my hands. Scarlets and sapphires glittered over my skin in an erotic display of color and heat. It didn't burn, but it brought every single one of my nerve endings to furious life.

I gasped.

Ash brought the hand from my back to my shoulder. Vibrant colors ran down his hand onto my skin as if in frantic need. Tingling warmth followed.

"Beautiful." He slid his hand slowly down my shoulder. His amber eyes watched me closely. Clearly satisfied that any sounds I made were not from pain, he settled his large hand over my breast.

I moaned.

I couldn't help it. My black blouse provided no protection from his touch, from his delicious heat. My nipple tightened immediately under his palm. He groaned. I knew he felt it.

He flexed his hand, his fingers pressed into my breast, learning me, testing me. "So soft." He pressed his lips into the curve of my neck. I hadn't realized my head had fallen back.

Trailing open-mouthed kisses down my throat, he paused every so often to draw in a section of skin and suck lightly. I arched into him, seeking more. Light kiss, soft suck, light kiss, the edge of his teeth.

He lapped at my racing pulse. Drew my tendon in and nibbled gently, then not so gently. I dug my fingers into his shoulders. He flexed them as if seeking more, wanting more, needing more.

I was only too happy to oblige. I grabbed the ties to his vest and tugged. They opened. I shoved at the leather until he released me long enough so I could shove the material down and off his arms. Ash set both of his hands under my hips to lift me right where he wanted me. My eyes slid closed. I parted my legs. The large, thick ridge tenting his pants pressed into the space I'd created.

Incredible warmth pulsated from his cock straight into me. Between my legs. My most intimate place.
Inside.
Ash had flamed all over now. Liquid desire pooled in me, wetting my panties. I wiggled closer. I'd never felt anything remotely like this before.

I opened my eyes and gasped again.

His wide chest bare, I saw that his tattoo curved over his left pectoral, encompassing the flat, brown nipple. It wound around his left side and disappeared behind his back. Not only the flames, but the black Celtic lines shifted over his skin as if they were alive as well.

I ran my hand over the brand. It arched outward as soon as I drew near. The markings curled around my skin, pulling me to him, drawing me close. His own brand of magic. His muscles flexed, the shimmering black and red lines glowed the moment I touched his skin.