Spellbound

  The act of giving herself so completely to him, of surrendering her body without reservation, was profoundly arousing. She grew wetter by the moment, her pussy quivering along his plunging length in helpless delight. Erotic sounds filled the room—Max’s growls and her deep purrs, the slap of flesh meeting flesh, and the soft sucking of her creamy sex as he shafted her.

  “Fuck me,” he ordered, his hands straightening her angle so that she was upright. Catching her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled and tugged as she rode his cock. The wicked pulling on her sensitive flesh echoed between her legs. He pinched her hard enough to make her cry out, then cupped her breasts in his palms, kneading them to soothe the sting. All the while her hips pounded into his, his cock bottoming out on every deep thrust.

  His breath gusted across her skin as he whispered darkly, “You feel so good. So wet and tight. Your cunt is squeezing me like a fist. I’m seconds away from coming hard in you.”

  “Yes,” she gasped, her sex spasming in expectation, sucking him greedily.

  His arms banded like steel around her. With a feral growl, he climaxed, spurting with such violence she felt it. His magic hit her like a sledgehammer, invading in a deluge, the taint of black magic wrenching a scream from her throat.

  Her Familiar power enhanced Max’s magic and cycled it back into him. He seized as it hit him, his breath hissing as his climax was spurred by the power rush, his cock swelling as he pumped her full of hot creamy semen.

  Victoria trembled with the need to come, her pussy primed and so ready. But he hadn’t told her she could and her body hovered in anticipation of the command.

  Pushing to his feet, Max turned and bore her to the couch, looming over her with his big, powerful body. His hips lunged, plunging his thick cock deep inside her. He fucked her roughly, his control barely maintained, his demand for her climax implicit in the way he took her. Gripping the sofa arm, he powered into her, driving her to orgasm with long, fluid thrusts.

  “Come,” he growled. “Come now.”

  Victoria’s back bowed as the pleasure speared through her, her sex tightening, then convulsing around him. She cried out, trembling, racked with love and longing and a desperate surge of magic. Power exploded from her, snuffing out the candles, then reigniting them with bright licks of flame. Max arched upward, his head thrown back with a virile snarl. He became the eye of the storm, his body the nexus of the magical tempest.

  She clung to him as it ravaged him, the anchor he needed yet refused to reach for.

  Four

  In the early hours of the morning, Max slipped from bed, careful not to wake Victoria, who slept deeply. She might not realize it yet, but he was draining her, his magic greedily tapping into hers. Such was the way of parasitic black magic. It was ravenous and soul destroying, turning warlocks and witches into junkies who cared for nothing as much as they did their next fix.

  He pulled on his pants and tied the drawstring as he moved out into the living room. Over the next hour, he increased the wards around the loft, tightening security to protect his most valuable possession. He’d nearly lost Victoria in the battle against the Triumvirate and had nearly lost his mind in the process. He had crossed a line that night, using both white and black magic to lure her back from the Transcendual Realm. He’d changed then, been stained by that violation of a sacred law. The Council chose not to disavow him, because he was too valuable to Them as a warlock who would do whatever was necessary.

  Once he’d secured their home, he moved into the bedroom. The woman who slept in his bed was stretched out like a cat, her arms above her head and her legs extended. Soft purrs rumbled in the air, filling him with a contentment he’d never known before her. The deep purple satin sheet was draped over her pale skin, covering her taut belly but leaving one breast and leg exposed.

  He shouldn’t have come home to her after starting the hunt. He should’ve stayed away until it was over.

  “Max.”

  Managing a smile, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Victoria’s sleep-soft mouth. “Good morning.”

  “Why are you out of bed?”

  He nuzzled his nose against hers, then straightened. “Planning what to feed you for breakfast.”

  “Umm . . . ” She smiled her catlike smile, a provocation his body responded to instantly.

  “Would you like to shower before or after?” He enjoyed Victoria any way he could get her, but naked and wet was one of his favorites.

  “I want to lie in bed with you all day.”

  Max took a deep breath, wanting the same thing but knowing he couldn’t afford to lose an entire day. As long as Powell and Barnes were out there, Victoria was at risk. “Soon, kitten.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “You’re starting the hunt?”

  “No time like the present.” He headed to the kitchen, hoping to avoid a fight.

  It was a fruitless exercise, he realized, when a sleek black cat raced by him and promptly sat on the threshold to the kitchen. Victoria couldn’t keep up with his long stride in her human form, but she had him beat in her feline one.

  “Sweetheart,” he said sternly, moving to step over her and getting swiped at instead.

  She shifted, appearing before him in all her naked glory.

  His breath caught as it always did when he saw her bared. He’d never wanted any woman more.

  With an impatient wave of his fingers, he covered her in a red silk robe, loving the way the color contrasted with her creamy skin and dark hair. “We’re not rehashing this.”

  “At least tell me where you’re going and how long you’ll be gone.”

  His brows rose. “That sounded like an order.”

  “Maybe it was. You came after me, Max, when I tried to walk out of your life. You claimed me. If you didn’t want the hassle, you should’ve let the Council pair me with Gabriel, as They intended—”

  Victoria! Magic surged out of him along with acidic jealousy. He couldn’t think of her with someone else, it made him furious. “You’re pushing me, kitten.”

  “You’re pushing me aside!” she argued.

  Recognizing the fear in her eyes, Max pulled her close and pressed his lips to her forehead. “They’re close,” he said softly. “Too close. I need to know you’re safe or I’ll give them an opening that wouldn’t be there otherwise.”

  “I feel them, too,” she said, snuggling into him. “You’re strong, Max. The strongest warlock I’ve ever come across, but it’s two against one! At least with me, you can even the odds.”

  “I can even the odds without risking you.”

  “With black magic. That’s too dangerous!”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Like calls to like. I have to draw them in.”

  “Which is why it’s even more important that I be with you!” Pulling back, she looked up at him, her emerald eyes pleading. “I can keep you grounded.”

  “Or I could taint Darius’s magic and push you too far.”

  “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  Releasing her, Max ran a hand through his hair. “Among other things.”

  Her eyes widened, then softened with love. “You’ve never been afraid before.”

  “I never had anything to lose.”

  She cupped his cheek and lifted to her tiptoes to press her mouth to his. Her tongue darted over his lips, leaving the taste of her behind.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she murmured.

  “I can’t stop it.” He caught her waist, felt how fragile she was. For all her power, she was soft and delicate. “I won’t make it without you, Victoria. You’re everything to me.”

  “Max . . . ”

  He kissed her, silencing the pleas that strove to weaken his resolve.

  Victoria worked hard to accept Max’s decision, fighting the sense of foreboding that had her agitated. The last thing she wanted was to distract Max in any way from his hunt, despite her certainty that he shouldn’t go alone.

  He slid the zippe
r up the back of her skirt, then ran his hands over her hips. His lips touched her nape and her eyes closed. She’d become so accustomed to being cared for, she had been lost the two days Max had been gone.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She nodded, though it was a lie. He would take her to work, then disappear, and she had no idea when—or if—he’d be back. It wasn’t in her nature to accept not getting her way. Max was the only one who ever told her no. She’d learned to accept it, knowing the reward would be worth suffering the denial, but she couldn’t see a reward here, beyond hoping and praying that he returned to her alive and untainted.

  His hand linked with hers, and in the blink of an eye, they were around the corner from the St. John. She was struck once again by the breadth of his power . . . and turned on by it. Max wielded his magic so easily. Effortlessly. And carried the weight of it with an air of command that was sexy and devastatingly attractive.

  “Keep your guard up,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, then finally her mouth. He smelled wonderful and looked even better. Tall and powerfully lean, his broad shoulders hugged by tailored Armani. The black three-piece suit complemented his dark hair, framing a sculpted face that still made her breath catch when he smiled.

  “Stop worrying,” he admonished.

  Overwhelmed by fear for him, Victoria caught him by the tie. “Refuse the hunt. Don’t go.”

  “Victoria—”

  “They can send someone else.”

  “I don’t want them to send someone else.”

  She froze. “Why? Did the High Council threaten you? Did They threaten me?”

  “No.” He cupped her nape in his hand and his silver gaze slid over her face. “Hunting is what I do, Victoria. You’ve always known that.”

  “Yes, but there will be other hunts. You don’t have to take—”

  “None this challenging.”

  She stared at him, her breath quick and her pulse racing. “You’d choose this hunt over me?”

  “Don’t.” His face hardened. “I am who I am. You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

  “I want you alive!”

  “You want a predator, just like you. You ruined every Hunter that stalked you before I came along. Ruined them and tossed them aside.” He caught her by the arms and lifted her onto her toes. “I hunt and I catch. I caught you. I’ve kept you. And I’ll come home to you. Don’t try to leash me, kitten. I won’t have it and you wouldn’t want it.”

  I love you.

  She watched his eyes close as her words drifted through his mind. I love you back.

  Max wrapped her up in his arms. He held her close and she didn’t care that they were embracing on the street with people walking by. She didn’t want to let go.

  “Come on,” he said finally, pulling back. “The sooner I get started, the sooner it’ll be over.”

  “You already started.”

  His chest expanded on a deep, slow breath. A silent admission.

  With his hand at her elbow, he led her around the corner and came to an abrupt stop. Victoria stumbled into his side, gathering her power to face the threat. It wasn’t what she expected.

  She wasn’t what Victoria expected.

  Petite and voluptuous, the blonde waiting in front of the St. John was clearly expecting Max, as evidenced by the wide curve of her pink lips when she saw him. The tension that gripped Max’s frame in response made Victoria’s claws extend and a low growl rumble in her chest.

  The woman was a witch. A powerful one. Victoria could feel the magic pulsing off her. Wearing towering stilettos and a sleeveless blue wrap dress that matched her eyes, the witch was being eyed appreciatively by every man within viewing distance.

  “There you are,” the blonde said, walking toward them in a leisurely, seductive way, her waist-length hair swaying gently. “You always like to keep me waiting. Not that I’ve ever had cause to complain in the end.”

  She ignored Victoria altogether.

  “Jezebel,” Max drawled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Once I heard your name linked with Powell and Barnes, nothing could’ve kept me away. A dual hunt like this comes once in a lifetime.” Her mouth curved and her blue eyes sparkled with feminine appreciation as they raked him from head to toe. “Considering how long we live, darling, that’s saying something.”

  She stopped in front of Max and ran her hand down his tie, disregarding the fact that he was holding hands with another woman. He caught her by the wrist, which only made her smile widen.

  “Jezebel, let me introduce you to Victoria. Sweetheart, this is Jezebel . . . an old friend.”

  Victoria bristled, aware of precisely how good a “friend” Jezebel had been to Max. The sensual awareness between them was obvious, as was their chemistry.

  You fucked that? she asked.

  Sheath the claws, kitten.

  Jezebel flicked her gaze to Victoria for the first time. “A Familiar. How quaint. I’d heard you’d paired with one, but couldn’t believe it.”

  “Believe it,” Victoria growled, punctuating her words with a sudden gust of air that sent the blonde stumbling back a step to totter on her heels.

  “Victoria,” Max warned. You can’t take her on, she’s too powerful.

  I don’t care. She’s talking around me as if I’m not here!

  She’s trying to get to you, he said grimly, and you’re letting her.

  Jezebel laughed huskily and shook out her hair. “She’s not tamed at all, is she? Knowing you, Max, you find that a challenging form of entertainment.”

  Victoria waited for him to say something in her defense. Instead, Max said, “Let me see Victoria to the door, then we’ll talk.”

  If you head off with that bitch, I’m going to be pissed.

  You’re already pissed, he retorted.

  Max!

  She felt a flare of magic that cut off their sharing of thoughts and her stomach knotted. He was changing. Worse, he was disconnecting from her in the process.

  His perfunctory kiss on her forehead and briskly spoken I love you did nothing to alleviate the fear that she was losing him.

  Victoria watched through the revolving glass entrance doors of the St. John as Jezebel linked her arm with Max’s and led him across the street. They made a striking couple—Max tall and dark, Jezebel petite and golden. There was also a natural familiarity in the way they moved together.

  He’d been with her for a considerable length of time at some point.

  Seething with jealousy and territorial possessiveness, Victoria turned on her heel and headed toward the elevators, determined to find out exactly how much of a threat Jezebel was.

  Five

  Too easy,” Xander said, his eyes on the stiff-backed Familiar as she marched through the entrance of the St. John Hotel. An entrance he’d empowered with a spell that provoked restlessness.

  Sirius’s head turned as he followed Westin crossing the street. He had more than a score to settle. He wanted to hit the High Council where it hurt, and turning their golden boy into a dark master would be a crippling blow. Westin had already done much of the work for them by breaching the Transcendual Realm. His aura was tainted by the effort. He should be rogue . . . hunted . . . But Westin always got away with everything. The Council was more afraid of losing him than keeping him.

  “We’ll need more than that little run-in,” Sirius murmured. “We’ve got one shot at tainting that Familiar. If we fuck it up, Westin will know and take steps. We won’t get a second chance.”

  “Got something in mind?”

  “He needs to have a reason not to send Patridge off on her merry way. He’ll keep her close if he thinks she’s a target.”

  “You want to take ’em both on at once?” Xander turned wide eyes to Sirius. “Now we’re talking!”

  Sirius transferred to a point ahead of Westin and his hot piece of ass, lingering in half form in the s
hadows. Extending a ghostly hand—the shape formed by grasping tendrils of gray smoke—Sirius cast a spell that formed a dark puddle on the sidewalk. It writhed gently, ripples forming as it sensed its prey approaching. Xander joined him just as Jezebel Patridge stepped into the deceptively shallow-looking water.

  She screamed as the water rushed up her body like a sleeve, greedily hugging the curves that Westin was intimately familiar with. A laugh bubbled up in Sirius’s throat—

  Westin pivoted abruptly. Thrusting out both hands, he launched a ball of energy from his fingertips. It struck Sirius in the chest with unerring precision. It sent him spinning deeper into the shadows. Then farther, into oblivion.

  Arianna settled into the seat in front of Victoria’s desk and crossed her jeans-clad legs. The witch wore her red hair cropped short and spiked. Brown eyes rimmed heavily with liner and burgundy-stained lips emphasized the paleness of her flawless skin. It also caused people to misjudge her as delinquent and ungifted.

  Fact was, Arianna was the best scribing witch Victoria had ever come across. Whether it was information or an object, Arianna could find it.

  “Westin’s been shagging Jezebel Patridge on and off for the last twenty years or so,” the witch announced, sliding into her customary slouch.

  Victoria caught her breath, then exhaled in a rush. “Twenty years?”

  “Nothing serious, from what I heard. Most of those I talked to describe it as a friends-with-benefits kind of thing. He certainly hasn’t been monogamous. He’s been bed-hopping the whole time. Although beds aren’t always involved, I’ve been told.”

  That didn’t make Victoria feel better. “Twenty years is a long time.”

  “Yeah.” Arianna shrugged. “There are no gruesome stories about a nasty breakup or anything. I get the impression it’s more like a breather between the two rather than a split.”

  Pushing back from her desk, Victoria stood and began to pace. Her feline need to roam when feeling caged had kicked in with a vengeance. Everything seemed off. The hotel staff was being run ragged by guest queries and requests. She wondered if the restlessness she felt was affecting everyone around her or if the reverse was true.