Pema's Storm: Rowan Sisters' Trilogy Book 1 (6 page)

“I’m sorry I stormed out on you today. Things got out of control and they shouldn’t have. You were right to stop things from going further. Honestly, I don’t have a clue what came over me. I hadn’t intended for that to happen when I returned. I’m not even certain why I did come back, but it wasn’t for that.”

Claire’s heart dropped to her feet at hearing Ronan’s words. She wondered if he was talking to Pema, and if so, what did he mean by stopping things? Did that mean he hadn’t had sex with her?

Ronan’s voice interrupted her musings. “No, Pema, I can’t deny the connection between us and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her heart twisted in her chest at the confirmation he was talking to Pema and she couldn’t believe her ears. When did he develop this connection to Pema? He’d never told her that in all the years they had been together. For that matter, the tone of his voice had never been so soft and caring. What was it about Pema that had him giving her so much?

Claire struggled to hold her temper and not storm in the room, forcing the love-potion down his throat. No matter what it took, Ronan would be hers again.

“I don’t want that either,” Ronan suddenly growled.

Despite her mother’s warning, she was going to take matters into her own hands. No one was coming between her and her male, especially not a Rowan.

Pema looked around the new realm club as she stood with her sisters and the Dark Warriors at one of the larger tables. Killian had done a fantastic job with the new place. She was glad to see that he had managed to salvage the glass blocks he’d had in the original club, although, it was now topped with a sleek sheet of live-edged wood. The small, colored lights that were built into the glass blocks were twinkling on the legs of patrons sitting on the high-backed stools at the bar.

She noted there were natural elements everywhere in the club. Killian’s shift away from the industrial décor in the original club gave the new place a feeling of warmth that had been lacking before.

Being a witch, she was connected to everything of the earth and felt grounded here. She surmised that Killian had made the change to enhance the protection she and her sisters had woven into the walls. They had been honored when Kill had asked them to add their own spells to those he and fellow sorcerers had already implemented. The club was all but impenetrable, and anyone, including the archdemons, would be hard-pressed to break their barrier.

“Nice skirt, witch. It’d look even better on my bedroom floor,” a fire demon called out from the next table. Her head turned and she saw that the male’s flame-orange gaze was trained on her ass.

“Keep your paws to yourself, this material isn’t flame retardant,” Pema called back then glanced down at her outfit, thinking she had gone overboard.

Self-loathing warred with common sense in her mind. She had dressed to provoke Ronan. Dressing for one specific male was completely out of her character and she hated that she had done it for Ronan. No, her inner-pep-talk chimed in, she was known for her risqué attire, and this had nothing to do with the bear. She was going with that thought. She had dressed for herself and no one else. She wondered if this was an omen that she was going to be lying to herself from here on out.

Try as she might, she wasn’t able to stop from thinking about how it had pissed her off when he’d said he didn’t want a relationship with her either. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want more from him. But then, she mused, it was always that way. When one person didn’t want you, it made you want them even more. And what she wanted from him was dark and dirty. Her rampant hormones had been torturing her from the moment she had refused sex with the shifter.

But right now, what she wanted was for him to eat his words, and her clothing was meant to entice. It was clearly doing its job as the fire demon continued to try and cajole her.

She heaved a deep sigh, thinking panties would have been a wise choice tonight. Especially, given the ultra-miniskirt she was wearing. Maybe a bra too, although the bandeau top was restrictive enough that it didn’t make that point too obvious. She would be fine as long as she didn’t catch Ronan’s scent. If she did, there would be no hiding her need.

She cursed silently when she realized her sisters had abandoned her at the table. She looked around the bustling club and saw that Suvi was with Bhric and heading to one of the backrooms. That was fast, she mused, as she shook her head. In fact, it had to be a record, even for Suvi. But, her sister did have a penchant for vampires, and the sexy Vampire Prince was always happy to oblige. That was one of the reasons Suvi had named her familiar, a black bat, after the Prince.

She spotted Isis on the dance floor with Rhys, one of the Dark Warriors. Pema smiled at the cambion’s version of dancing, which involved a lot of bumping and grinding and tongue action.

Male posturing brought her back to her immediate surroundings. Gerrick, another the Dark Warriors, was about to throw down with the fire demon that had been hitting on her. From the words being exchanged, Gerrick had taken up for her when she had become distracted. Being welcomed into the Vampire King’s close ring of friends was new to them and she found she really liked the formidable males. They were surprisingly down-to-earth.

When Gerrick grabbed the demon by the scruff of the neck and led him away, she noticed Ronan had responded to the raised voices and was heading in their direction, looking as delicious as ever. Searching for a distraction from her desire to get up and run into Ronan’s arms, she turned to Cailyn and Jace who were sitting to the side of her.

A few weeks ago, Pema and her sisters had helped Jace, a Dark Warrior discover a spell that had been buried deep inside his psyche for over seven centuries. It was what had brought them into Zander’s inner circle.

“We haven’t had a chance to follow up and see if you were able to break Angelica’s spell,” Pema said to Jace, trying not to breathe through her nose. It was bad enough she could hear Ronan’s heavy footsteps and the deep rumble of his voice. She didn’t need to add his luscious scent to the volatile mix churning in her gut.

Jace looked at her, his gratitude clear in his amethyst eyes. “It wasn’t easy, but yes, with the love of my mate the spell was broken. I cannot fathom what my life would be like if you and your sisters hadn’t revealed it. We owe you more than what we paid you. There is no reward big enough for the life you and your sisters made possible.”

“Jace is right, we will never be able to repay you, but if you ever need anything, all you have to do is call. You’re one of us now. Your sisters too,” Cailyn declared. She was a delicate human female. Well, not so human anymore. They had completed their mating and Pema sensed the shift in the female’s DNA that indicated she was now immortal like her mate.

“You owe us nothing. It was an honor to be called upon for such an important task. Not many in the realm would have taken the chance on us. We are impetuous, untrained witches,” Pema teased and winked at Cailyn. “Seriously though, I’m glad that we were able to help. And, it was the most challenging spell we have ever cast, so we actually owe you. Because we didn’t attend Callieach, we are never given the opportunity to practice such magic. Many of our customers are humans, only interested in love potions and tarot readings,” she laughed.

Black Moon’s top seller was their temporary love spells, which were lust potions really. To sell actual love potions would take free will away from an unsuspecting being, something they would never do. Speaking of lust, her body suddenly ignited with it. Her stomach clenched with need as her feminine folds heated and moistened. She drew in a breath, Goddess, Ronan was near.

Pema surreptitiously glanced around the bar as she listened to Jace and Cailyn. Her heart sank when she saw Ronan waylaid by Claire, wearing a skin-tight, red dress with come-fuck-me heels. She couldn’t be more desperate, Pema thought disdainfully, ignoring the hypocrisy of her own six inch stilettos.

Had he gone to her when he left Pema and rekindled their relationship? The thought made Pema flare her fingers, wanting to scratch her eyes out. She had broken things off with Ronan, yet now she was rubbing against him like a dog in heat.

Unable to tear her focus from Ronan, Pema ate him up with her eyes. Damn, he looked good in his low-ride, dark, denim jeans. His powerful thighs enhanced the bulge she could see growing in his pants. His tight, powder blue t-shirt molded to his broad shoulders and muscular pecs and set off his curly brown hair and dark, chocolate eyes. He was totally lickable. One curl hung adorably over his left eye and Pema all but drooled on the table in front of her.

Pema had to ignore the fact that Claire was clinging to his arm like fungus. It was either that or give into her violent urges. And didn’t that set off an epic battle in Pema’s mind. She wanted to stake a claim on Ronan so Claire and any other female knew just who he belonged to. Yet, she didn’t want a relationship with him, or anyone else, for that matter. She saw the irony in that, but couldn’t help it.

Part of her, she realized, had already staked a claim on Ronan because when Claire pressed her body along Ronan’s side and reached to pull him down to her waiting lips, Pema bared her teeth and hissed at the sight. She was mortified, she had never hissed at anyone before in her life.

“You okay, sweet cheeks?” Rhys asked, stepping into Pema’s line of vision. She had been so consumed by Ronan and Claire that she hadn’t seen him approach her. Never mind that she had completely checked out of her conversation with Jace and Cailyn.

“I can smell your arousal…and anger,” Rhys purred. “I can help with that.”

Heat flooded her cheeks with embarrassment and Rhys smiled that smile of his that usually had her grabbing at his jeans. Lamentably, her body desired only Ronan at the moment. It had to be because she had denied her body the sexy bear shifter and it wanted that experience. She refused to believe anything else.

“Fucking Rhys,” she smiled up at him and winked, allowing him to wrap her in his arms. She knew she was being petulant by hoping to gain Ronan’s attention with the cambion’s embrace. It was nearly too much for her when Rhys grabbed her ass and pulled her against his groin. She became dizzy as her chest constricted painfully. She immediately became alarmed at the chest pain, wondering what had caused it. She prayed it was indigestion because the alternative didn’t warrant consideration.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Ronan had stepped away from Claire and was staring at her. Pema’s flash of satisfaction quickly died when Ronan’s eyes turned to coal with his anger. Killian would fire him if he started a fight, especially when it was his job to stop such altercations. And she worried for his safety if he fought Rhys. Not that Ronan was weak, but Rhys was a powerful Dark Warrior. She wasn’t sure which of them would win a fight, but didn’t want to find out.

When Ronan started forward, only to be pulled back by Claire, Pema’s good sense flew out the window. Her muscles tensed and she was about to leap when Rhys stopped her dead in her tracks.

Ronan’s nostrils flared and she had no doubt he could smell her arousal. The petty side of her was glad, because maybe seeing her with another male tortured him as much as the sight of him with Claire tortured her. Satisfaction wasn’t as sweet as she thought it would be when she saw hurt cross his expression. Claire’s satisfied smirk and possessive hold on Ronan had Pema’s anger boiling right back to the surface. In an instant, Pema was poised and ready to attack.

“Stop, sweet cheeks. You don’t want to do what you’re thinking,” Rhys whispered against her ear. How he had known, she wasn’t certain, but he was right, attacking Claire would be a mistake. Pema closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The witch wasn’t worth the effort.

Pema opened her eyes and enjoyed it far too much when Ronan walked away, leaving Claire alone at the bar. She dropped her head onto Rhys’ shoulder as relief swamped her. She needed a drink, or ten, if she was going to make it through the night. “You’re right, thank you, Rhys. I
really
need a vodka tonic.”

“I got it, sweetness, something to occupy your mind and numb your body.” Rhys teased as he sauntered up to the bar to order drinks.