The Sorceress Screams (27 page)

He could have
killed me yesterday. But instead he’d given me an orgasm without insisting upon
sex. How bad could he really be?

I hissed at
myself for letting down my guard. He was a vampire. He was
Wipuk’s
city ruler. He had an ulterior motive. I simply hadn’t worked out what it was.
But I suspected it had something to do with my ring. After all, it’s what
I’d
do if I were an evil vampire bent on
world domination.

Still, I noted
my skin’s glow when I stepped in front of the bathroom mirror.
As well as the dopey smile.

So he was
using me? I was using him, too. It was a horrible basis for a relationship, but
it didn’t make the sex any worse. For all I knew, it made it better.

I stuck my
toothbrush in my mouth, lazily scrubbing along my upper gums while dreamily
recalling the night before. That’s when I realized
what
had woken me. Someone was knocking.

I glanced at
the alarm clock on my bedside table. Three minutes past ten. I shot across the
apartment and then wrenched open the front door before my visitor could pound
again.

Desmond took
in my bed-head and the gauzy tank top twisted around my torso. His hooded eyes
narrowed. A midnight blue shirt wrinkled beneath his black jacket from his
angry jerk. “You aren’t even ready.”

“I’m sorry,” I
said over my toothbrush. “I forgot to set an alarm.” I hadn’t even been awake
when I’d gotten home, but I wouldn’t tell
him
that. “Come in. Have a seat. I just need to change.”

Kore’s
seeds! I wasn’t even going to
get a chance to shower. This was going to be an uncomfortable day.

I hurried into
the bedroom, kicking the door shut. It bounced, reopened, and then settled in a
partially closed position. It would have to do because I’d already torn off my
skirt.

“You wear
skirts to bed?” He called out almost angrily. The position of his sharp voice
hinted he stood between the living room and the kitchen facing the bedroom.

I kept quiet
because I suspected the answer would make him worse.

“Fuck me.” I
quietly hissed when I realized I needed a fresh pair of panties on the other
side of the room. Darting across as fast as vanilla humanly possible, I hid
behind the bed so I could open the dresser drawer without revealing too much.
But when I turned back to make my way to the closet, Desmond was visible
through the crack in the door.

He’d been
watching.

I sent him a
glare tinged with embarrassment. No sense running back to the closet now that
he’d gotten an eyeful. I moved with a sedate pace. Desmond finally turned away.

I made quick
work of tugging on a pair of fishnet tights, and then my favorite pair of
cropped jean shorts. One of my many V-neck T-shirts, this one in pumpkin,
completed the look. Then it was off to the bathroom to salvage my hair with
some styling gel. I finished my morning ritual with lacing up my Doc Marten’s.

Desmond didn’t
budge as I breezed through the apartment past him. I paused just long enough to
grab my purse.

“I hope you
got coffee,” I said as he slipped past me so I could lock the door.

“I got two
lattes with extra cream.”

My attention
snapped to his face. The delivery had been stilted, a match for the displeasure
darkening his expression, but the words were of note. I’d never told him my
coffee preference. And the one time I’d had coffee in his presence, I’d tossed
it in his waste bin.

I made myself
speak lightly as I stepped off the porch. “How did you know?”

Desmond lifted
his shoulder in an irreverent shrug. He walked into place beside me. “The
barista
chats
me up daily. I merely maneuvered our
chat onto a useful topic for a change. The girl with the blue hair is easy to
remember.”

“It’s
cerulean.”

“I know
it’s
cerulean.” He pronounced the word perfectly. “She
doesn’t.” He sent me a sidelong look. “Should I have corrected her?”

“No. That
would just be weird.”

He nodded.

Ryan Steele
hurried around the corner, his hair a mess and his clothing half fastened. He
looked like I had ten minutes ago. The
shapeshifter
kept his head down until he noticed who was walking toward him. His feet
stalled.

“
Kora
,” he called out.
“
Mornin
’.”

“Hi, Ryan.”
There was only one reason
he’d pause his walk of shame for a greeting. “You know Desmond Marino?”

Ryan shook his
head. A neutral expression had taken up residence on his face. He must be far
older than the twenty-five years he looked because the ability to hide emotions
was something that came with decades of practice or mental instability. He’d
seemed stable to me.

“I don’t think
we’ve actually been introduced,” he said.

Desmond let
out one of his martyred huffs. But he quickly adopted his own neutral
expression. He politely offered his hand. “Hello. You are?”

“Ryan Steele.”
He strode forward and gripped Desmond’s hand. “The only
shapeshifter
left in
Wipuk
.” His latest words edged on
confrontational.

“I’m sorry
your clan left,” Desmond said in an appropriately remorseful tone.

“They weren’t
my clan. But thanks for the apology all the same. This town needed them.”

Desmond sent
another sidelong look at me. “So I’ve been told.” With a tight smile he said,
“We’ll let you get back to your morning.”

Ryan lifted
his eyebrows as if to ask what
we
were doing together. I shifted my attention away from them both with a barely
perceptible shrug.

“Thanks.” Ryan
turned toward his apartment.

We made it to
Desmond’s BMW without running into anyone else. I took hold of the tall latte
in the cup holder that didn’t have a coffee-stained lid. A quick sip turned
into a full-on gulp as I settled my
tush
into the
seat and fought with the seatbelt one-handed. Beneath the radio on the center
console was a bag printed with the coffee shop’s logo. The scent of warm yeast
floated in the air beneath Desmond’s crisp mountain stream smell.

Turning on the
engine with a smooth move, Desmond said, “I understand your distaste for me if
you’ve had him for a neighbor and Miss
Kranz
for an
employee.”

I let out a
quick laugh.
“Oh no.
My distaste for you was established
long before I heard any of that.”

A glance over
at him showed him to be discomfited but silent. Maybe he now questioned his
behavior. He’d apologized for being an ass once and said he’d done it all for
Wipuk
. I doubted he’d apologize again. Desmond Marino
struck me as a man who rarely apologized.

“I was wrong,”
he said a second later in a soft cadence.

My hand
stilled with the coffee cup centimeters from my lips.

What in Hades was that for
?
He was wrong?
About what?
About helping me with Nadir
and the women?

Desmond’s
attention remained on the windshield though we were stationary. “I should have
given you a chance to make your case before I tried to eject you from
Wipuk
, and I never should have accused you of murder.”

My jaw went
slack. He wasn’t apologizing for being an ass. He was admitting he was wrong!
Men like Desmond didn’t do that!

No, men like
Desmond probably
did
because it would
win
them
friends and influence. I forced my mouth shut
so I could take a sip from my latte and look at something
other
than his pretty lips. He turned his head toward me. Desmond
released a long breath and then put the car in drive, focusing again on the
road ahead.

I didn’t care
if he was irritated. It was going to take more than an admission of error to
influence
me
.

****

The Massive
Attack CD was once again in Desmond’s car stereo. The music was welcome because
we’d lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Max’s
classical Spanish guitar soundtrack popped into my head. Inevitably it reminded
me of his pool, and him
in
his pool.
My skin heated at the visual of him nude on the ceramic-tiled patio.

I could have given in then
.
Though I’d have missed what happened later. That was the most fun I’d ever had
with my clothes on. Sighing dreamily, I settled back into car seat.

Desmond
shifted in his spot. I didn’t look at him because I didn’t want him to note the
heat in my cheeks and ask why I was blushing. He didn’t like
Maximo,
that
much I’d gathered. I’d rather avoid the topic of the vampire today.

The craggy
landscape sailed by on the trip to Flagstaff. I ought to be getting ready to go
into work. But it was Independence Day. And yesterday Nell had sold the
expensive glass vase to the Canadian tourists I’d talked up days ago. I could
afford to shut down for the holiday. That didn’t make the guilt any less.

We pulled into
a hotel parking lot at quarter to eleven. It was then that Desmond snatched up
the bakery bag.

He let out a
quiet curse. “I bought us scones. But I forgot. Do you want one? I was going to
suggest we all go to lunch before heading to the airport.”

“Lunch is
fine.”

I was
uncomfortable, but I wasn’t quite sure why. Had it been because he’d bought
scones or because he’d forgotten he’d bought scones? We’d sat in silence for
twenty-five minutes. Shouldn’t he have remembered at some point during that
time? What was on his mind to keep him that occupied?

Shaking myself
out of my thoughts, I opened the car door. Desmond took the bakery bag with
him. He reached over his shoulder to click the locks on the car with his key
fob. And then he dropped the bag into the trashcan outside the hotel.

Such disregard
for food stuck in my craw. Maybe it was because I was on a budget. And maybe it
was because I’d seen starving villagers that would have convulsed in ecstasy
for a mere crumb of one of those scones.

Desmond
motioned for me to go ahead inside and to the nearby elevator. He joined me in
the small metal box, hitting the button for the sixth floor. I crowded into the
corner away from him.

He stepped out
as soon as the double doors spread open. His assured stride down the corridor
made me wonder if he were confident in truth or if like me, he merely pretended
to be. My cheeks flushed when I realized I’d been watching for glimpses of his
ass between his jacket’s
part
.

Charon, take
it. What was wrong with me? I’d assumed my interest in his body had been born
of sexual frustration from months of abstinence. But that abstinence had
basically ended last night. I shouldn’t want to see Desmond’s ass.

Shaking myself
once again, I hurried to where he’d stopped in front of a specific door. He
knocked twice and then settled two steps back.

The door burst
open before I reached it. Inside a high-pitched voice rang out. “
Dessy
!”

I recognized
Veronika’s
voice long before I saw her. Twin pink spots formed
on Desmond’s pale cheeks.

He cleared his
throat, nodding in greeting. “Good morning. Are you ready to leave?”

The young
woman crooned. “Come inside.”

Desmond cast
me a pleading look. I leaned against the corridor wall several feet away,
giving him the full measure of my amusement.

“I have Ms.
Walsh with me,” he said as if that were an excuse not to join her in the room.

“She can wait
with Jacqueline.”
Veronika’s
pitch lowered sensually.
“It’s only been a few hours since you left me last night, but it feels like
ages. Come inside,
Dessy
.”

My amusement
faded into a neutral expression. I had no interest in witnessing a lovers’
goodbye. I gestured toward the elevator, a sign that I’d go wait with
Jacqueline, wherever she was. But Desmond called out the moment I turned.

“No. We’re
going to lunch. And then we’re going to the airport.” He adopted his
head-dick-in-charge tone. “Set your luggage outside the door so I can take it
to the car.”

Desmond
started down the corridor to the next door, knocking exactly as he had on
Veronika’s
. The door slid open a moment later. Jacqueline’s
quiet voice greeted him. “I can carry my own luggage. Send her in. I want to
talk to her.”

He motioned me
to go in and then backtracked to
Veronika’s
. The
younger woman hissed something at him as I stepped into Jacqueline’s hotel
room. The door clicked shut behind me.

Jacqueline’s
dark eyes were tight with worry as she stood beside the neatly made king-sized
bed. “Can you check me please,
Kora
? I don’t trust
that doctor. I won’t put my husband in danger by going home unless I’m
completely clean.”