Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) (18 page)

Standing, he ran his hands up my legs, over my stomach. He braced himself on an elbow and teased one of my breasts. I bit my lip. With a shift of his hips, he aligned himself with me. One swift thrust filled me almost to the point of pain. I whimpered with pleasure, and ran my nails over the muscles of his back.

Hands cradling my hips and face buried in my neck, he unhinged me. We collided in a pillar of soul-shattering light. Just when I’d caught my breath again, his lips brushed over my skin and his teeth sank into the flesh of my neck and shoulder. The air around thickened with power, sending the flames of the candles blazing three inches high. Rick drank of me, and I bit down on the flesh of the wrist he offered. Liquid orgasm, warm and intricate, coursed down my throat. I swallowed. I healed. I curled my body tighter against his.

He didn’t disappoint. Ready again, he began to move with me.

“T
hey’re going to try to wake your dad this afternoon,” Michelle said. She sat across from me at the Gilded Rooster, Red Grove’s only banquet hall.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. My fingers pressed over my lips. Relieved tears streamed down my cheeks. “Is he—”

“Breathing on his own? Yes. They’ve just kept him under so he could heal. But it’s time. Dr. Hastings said I could tell you, but he’ll call you later.”

“Thank you. I’m so relieved.”

Michelle frowned. “We won’t know the neurological damage until he’s awake,” she muttered.

“I know.”

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” she asked.

“If we don’t decide on a menu today, it won’t get done,” I said, poking at my cucumber and tomato salad. It was the first course in our tasting menu. “I made this appointment before Dad’s attack. It just makes sense to keep it.”

Michelle nodded. She poked at the salad but didn’t take a bite. Taking a deep breath as if she wanted to say something, she opened her mouth and paused. I looked at her pointedly. “On the topic of the fast approaching wedding date.” She lowered her voice. “Are you worried Tabetha will kill Logan after what went on with the vampires?”

I blinked at her, my fork hovering over my neglected salad. “Seriously? Of course I’m worried, but there’s nothing I can do. I tried to talk to him, but it’s like he’s completely brainwashed. He thinks he’s in love with her.”

“But she’s threatened to
kill
him, Grateful.”

“I know.” I pressed my lips together. “Listen, Tabetha requested I turn over my territory by the spring equinox. I doubt she’ll kill him before then. If she does, she’ll lose all of her leverage. I have time. I’ll figure out a way—a spell, or enchantment—to keep him safe.”

Michelle chased a tomato around her plate and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, I got the sense she’d tasted the salad to get out of responding to me. I scooped up a bite and did the same. What could I say? Logan was an adult and he knew what he was getting himself into. There were limits to what I could do.

“This is awful,” she admitted. “The cucumber is mushy and the tomatoes are flavorless.”

I shrugged. “The Gilded Rooster is the only reception hall in Red Grove.”

Michelle leaned her cheek into her fist and lowered her fork to her plate. “You’ve got a lot going on, Grateful. Maybe …”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe you should consider delaying the wedding.”

I shook my head. “No. I am not going to let Tabetha ruin this for me. I am getting married to Rick on the spring equinox. The wedding will be beautiful, and let’s face it, none of us will be there for the food.” I set my fork down, and a boy in suspenders and a bow tie swept by and removed our plates.

“This place is a barn,” Michelle said. “A literal barn … with folding tables.” She leaned toward me. “You only get to do this once … well, in this lifetime. It should be special.”

For a moment, I just stared at her, then I burst into laughter. “Believe me, Michelle, my relationship with Rick is special.” I smiled. “I wanted to have it at Valentine’s, but Logan was booked. And it would be awkward now with everything that’s happened.”

The bow-tie boy returned with two plates. “The chicken,” he said, setting the plates down in front of us.

“How is this prepared?” Michelle asked.

The boy gave a little nod and said quite seriously, “In an oven.”

I watched him walk away, my mouth hanging open. Michelle broke into belly laughs, and I joined her. I poked experimentally at the chicken. The rebound of my fork off the meat only made us laugh harder. As our laughter petered out, Michelle rested one hand on mine.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she made a blatant statement of the obvious. “March twentieth is just more than a month away.”

With a deep sigh, I slammed my fork down on the table. “You don’t get it, Michelle. I know this isn’t the best time to be married. I know my father might not be able to walk me down the aisle, the food might taste like rubber, and my dress might not fit perfectly. But you don’t understand.”

“Make me,” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“This is my life now. It’s not going to stop. There’s never going to be a good time to get married because there will always be a bad guy around every corner.”

Michelle shook her head.

“It’s true! In my life, the marriage is much more important than the wedding. The spring equinox is the magical apex of new beginnings. If this marriage is going to work, I need all the help I can get.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re worried it won’t happen if you wait.”

My mouth flapped open and closed. “Don’t be silly. I can’t wait to marry Rick. We’ve never been more in love.”

“At Gertrude’s you told me you weren’t afraid of marriage, you were afraid the relationship would fail. You want to seal the deal before anything can go wrong. You’re afraid of abandonment.”

I bit my lip and stared at the painted concrete floor. “Stop psychoanalyzing me,” I said.

“Grateful, marriage, even on the equinox, is not a magical binding spell. If Rick wanted to leave you, he could do it with or without the marriage license.”

Anxiously, I tapped my foot. Why was I worried? Rick was mine in every possible way. But deep inside I knew why. He’d almost left me once. For Tabetha. He said it wasn’t romantic on his part, but time and circumstance could have changed that. What if Rick tired of me?

My worries were irrational. We’d been together for lifetimes. He wasn’t going to leave me. Still, Michelle was right. The fear was there, as illogical as it was.

“If it makes you feel better, you’re right.”

Michelle grinned smugly.

“But it’s my wedding. I’ll do it my way.” With some effort, I cut off a slice of rubbery chicken and popped it into my mouth. The sauce was indescribable. I think it was supposed to be sweet and sour, but it had the aftertaste of lime gelatin. A facial tic started under my right eye as I forced myself to swallow.

Raising her loaded fork to her mouth, Michelle paused to say, “It’s your party.” She popped the bite between her teeth, chewed twice, and then promptly spit it into her paper napkin.

“Welcome back, Dad.” I stood by my father’s bed while he blinked up at me trying to speak. His neck wound was healing nicely and his vitals were normal, but having your neck shredded and then a tube down your throat doesn’t do much for your voice. Dr. Hastings and Michelle had stopped the medication that afternoon, and Dad had been in and out ever since.

He worked his lips and rasped, “Grateful?”

I squeezed his hand. “Yeah, it’s me. Your voice will come back. Just give it time.” I brought the straw of the white Styrofoam cup on his bedside table to his lips, and he drank greedily.

“Need to talk,” he said, although the words came out mostly air.

“Are you in pain?”

He shook his head and patted his throat. Becoming agitated, his eyes darted around the room. They stopped on the whiteboard hanging on the wall with the date and the names of his nurses. With effort, he raised a hand and pointed at it.

“You want a whiteboard? To write on?”

He nodded.

The one he’d pointed to was permanently screwed into the wall, but they usually kept a small one for patient use in the cabinet under the window. I retrieved it, popped the cap off the marker, and arranged both in his hands.

Danger,
he scrawled. Each letter was a slow struggle. His hand shook.

“You’re safe here, Dad. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He shook his head and wrote,
You are in
above the word
danger
.

“I’m in danger? Why?”

He erased the board with the small eraser that came with the board.
Not animal attack,
he scrawled.

“You weren’t attacked by an animal,” I said to show him I understood. “Do you know what attacked you?”

He wiped the slate clean.
Vampires
, he wrote. Tears spilled from his eyes.
Not crazy.
He underlined the words three times.

“Oh, Dad,” I said, wiping his tears away. “I know you’re not crazy. I know all about vampires.”

He stopped, searched my face. Then erased the board.
How?
he scribbled.

I looked down at my fingers resting on his blanket. “It’s a long story.”

Crooking the fingers of one hand, he motioned for me to tell him. “I’m a witch,” I whispered. “And my job is to make sure vampires who do this to humans are punished.”

A raspy scoff broke my father’s lips. He shook his head.

“I’m not teasing you.” I met his eyes and held out my hand, right over his whiteboard. Muttering a spell under my breath, I conjured a tiny blue star over my palm. “I’d produce a full flame for you, but we’re in a hospital. Fire and oxygen don’t mix.”

My father rubbed his eyes.
Not real
, he wrote
.

“I don’t want it to be real either, but it is. It’s time you knew. As my only family, I’m afraid this attack won’t be the last.”

Dad leaned back into his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

“You’re tired. This is too much. But I need to know. What did the vampire who bit you look like?”

His eyes flipped open, and he lifted the marker.
Tribal tattoo
.

I nodded. Good. Gary was right. Kace did this, and Kace was already dead.

My father scribbled on the board again.
Cleopatra.

A chill traveled the course of my spine. “Cleopatra? Do you mean … Was there a woman with Kace who looked like Cleopatra?”

Hired me.

“She hired you to show her houses, and then Kace attacked you?”

He nodded.

Tabetha. I ground my teeth. Even I could put two and two together. Tabetha learned who my father was from Logan and used Kace to try to kill him, to distract me from the vampire challenge. No doubt Gary was a surprise to her. She wouldn’t expect I’d have a vampire supporter on the inside. And all to pressure me to turn over my territory.

I placed a hand on my father’s shoulder. “Rest now. You’re safe here. I won’t let anything like this happen to you again.”

He closed his eyes, obviously overwhelmed with our conversation. He’d expected to blow me away with his revelation of the existence of vampires. Instead, his message backfired. His daughter was a witch.

I kissed him on the forehead. “Try not to think on it. There will be plenty of time to talk about this when you’re better.”

He blinked at me, his eyes glazing. I grabbed the remote. “How about some TV? No sense being in the hospital if you can’t rot your brain.” I had a wedding to plan and a friend to protect from a murderous witch, but family first. I put my feet up and flipped to a rerun of
Modern Family
.

The hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“S
how me how to protect Logan from Tabetha.” Hand hovering over
The Book of Light
, I commanded my grimoire to give me the answer.

The book lit up from the spine, the pages flipping in an almost imperceptible wind. The tome was huge. Hundreds of pages. It took more than a minute to flip through every page and when it was through the entire book, it simply flipped them all in the opposite direction. Usually this process would end with the book opening to the page that would help answer my question. This time the book closed itself.

I stared at it for a moment in confusion. Was there something wrong with the book? Or something wrong with me? I tried again. Thrusting my hand over the cover I stated in a firm, commanding voice, “Show me how to protect Logan from Tabetha.”

Again the light, the flipping, and the concluding slam of the cover. “Ugh, this is so frustrating,” I yelled.

Poe flew into the attic through his pet door. “What seems to be the problem, Spamwitch?”

“Spamwitch? Really? That’s the name you come up with today of all days? Spam is a processed luncheon meat. Do I look like a processed, canned magical entity to you?” I pointed at myself defensively.

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the grimoire,” he said, arching his feathery brows. “Sorry,
Grateful,
is there something I can assist you with today? You appear frustrated.”

His forced formality almost pulled me out of my foul mood. Almost.

“I’ve asked
The Book of Light
a question, twice, and it just keeps closing itself.”

“Usually that means it doesn’t have an answer. Try changing the way you phrase the question.”

I thrust my hand over the book again. “Show me how to hide Logan from Tabetha.”

Light. Flipping pages. Slamming cover. No answers.

“That’s your problem,” Poe said. “You’re asking the wrong questions. Tabetha is an ancient and powerful witch. There isn’t any spell or enchantment you can put on Logan that she can’t muscle through with her own spell or enchantment. The book doesn’t have an answer for you.”

“Then how do I protect Logan?”

Poe contemplated the window for a moment. “Maybe the answer lies not in protecting Logan but in preserving him?”