Wicked Magic Page 9

  “Go haunt someone else,” she snapped.

  She stood, dragging the blanket with her, and walked right through the mist in front of her. Clothes. She needed to get dressed and get the hell out of the house. Being a witch connected her to the supernatural world. A normal human wouldn’t have even noticed the ghosts floating around, perving on the living. Maybe they were bored, or maybe she had bad luck, but it seemed her house was a hot spot for the dead. Wonderful.

  The rich scent of coffee filled the house and eased the first pounding waves of her headache. It was the least Brenda could do after keeping her up all night. Hearing someone else having the sex of their life was low on her list of things to do that night, considering she’d left Trent naked, in the rain, in front of his house and looking at her with a mixture of shock and anger.

  He’d wanted to complete the ritual. She’d been too stubborn to let him. Moving past her dresser and the Colonial soldier sitting on top of it, she opened her bedroom door and inhaled the caffeine. The outdated coffeemaker groaned, dripped and gurgled. It was music to her ears.

  “Trick or treat.” The voice was scratchy, old, and scared the living shit out of her.

  “Jesus,” she yelped.

  A green hand rose, fingers mocking her girly screech. That was it. She adjusted her blanket, mindful of the flickering audience, and picked up the plastic cauldron. The second she pulled the cord from the wall, the hand shriveled in on itself.

  She marched straight into the kitchen, ignored the way Brenda casually took a sip of coffee and tossed the contraption into the trash. The dark-haired man sitting beside her looked up and grinned. Draped on the chair beside him was a leather jacket, the wolf insignia familiar. Unmistakable.

  Sam’s heart stopped. Her mouth dropped open and she took an immediate step back.

  “Hello there, darlin’,” the werewolf said, the evil haze surrounding him seeping into her pores.

  He had black hair spiked in clumps and looked no older than twenty. His eyes were green and menacing.

  “Y-you,” she stuttered and wrapped a hand around her constricting throat.

  Brenda looked back and forth between them. “What’s the matter, babe, you look like you just saw a ghost.”

  Her butt hit the counter and she blindly reached behind her for a knife. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt and took comfort in the weight, before swinging the blade out, in front.

  “Get out,” she hissed.

  “Whoa, Sam, put the knife down,” Brenda said and rose from the table.

  The red satin robe she wore gapped at the middle and exposed a whole lot of cleavage and several love bites. This was the guy Brenda had been having sex with all night? A murderer?

  The wolf looked between them and smiled, the tilt of his lips both smarmy and fake. “You’re the chick from the bar, right? The bartender?”

  “Cut the shit. You know exactly who I am. I was there last night in the woods. Your pack killed that girl. You almost killed Trent.”

  Brenda’s mouth fell open and she stared at her lover. “Dean, what’s she talking about?”

  Dean wrapped a hand around Brenda’s waist and pulled her close. He draped an arm across her shoulder and stroked a single finger up and down her throat.

  “I think Samhain’s getting to her. Don’t know what kind of shit she’s spewing. I went back to the bar, waited for you to get off then followed you here. I haven’t seen my pack or talked to them.” A muscle clenched in his jaw. “I’m sorry if they caused any trouble, Greg’s been a bit of a loose cannon since his wife died and the full moon ain’t helping. Wolves mate for life, don’t we, Brenda?”

  The words were right, kind of, but the tone—the look in his eyes was all wrong. Sexual heat. Hunger. A hint of anger. Dean slid his hand down Brenda’s neck, between her breasts. He leered at Sam the entire time, as if daring her to challenge him.

  Fucker was lying.

  “I don’t believe you.” She held his gaze and forced herself to keep upright even though she wanted to puke.

  Brenda, as if she’d been put under some kind of a spell, preened under the wolf’s touch. She made a little mewling sound in the back of her throat when Dean cupped her breast under her robe.

  “You believe Brenda, don’t you, Sam? I was with her all night. She wouldn’t lie to you,” he said and licked his lips.

  Her friend’s eyelids fluttered and she panted. “It’s true. He was here all night.”

  “Whatever,” Sam hissed and clutched the sheet around her body tighter.

  Not bothering to put away the knife, she backed out of the kitchen. Dean winked at her. “Happy early birthday, sweetheart. I hope it’s…special.”

  The asshole was playing Brenda. She didn’t know how to help her friend who was apparently too enamored to notice Dean-what’s-his-face was a liar.

  Sam glared. “Fuck you.”

  His laughter haunted her all the way into her bedroom. She slammed the door closed and leaned against the hard surface. Her heart hammered in her chest and her palms were slick. What was she going to do? This guy was here, in her house, for a reason. Payback? Was Brenda even safe?

  She strode for her dirty, discarded jeans on the floor and pulled her cell from the pocket. Her fingers, having a mind of their own, dialed a number she’d memorized but never used.

  “What,” Trent answered on the sixth ring, sounding as if he were still asleep.

  Over the phone his voice was deeper, even more appealing.

  She clutched her sheet. “Trent.”

  Bedsprings squeaked. “Sam?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly and chewed on her bottom lip. Damn. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Dean really hadn’t been there in the clearing last night. She hadn’t seen him shift, didn’t know if the wolf that got away was him or not for sure. On the other hand, he belonged to the same pack—the pack Trent and Sam had killed. That meant something, right?

  “Everything okay?” he asked cautiously.

  She imagined he was running his hand through his hair.

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  “Well,” he said slowly, drawing the word out. “Which is it?”

  She had to trust her instincts. “He’s here,” she whispered, almost afraid Dean would hear her and come barging in through her door.

  At the thought, she reached behind her and flipped the lock, barely catching the sheet before it fell below her breasts.

  “Who’s there?” Trent growled.

  She knew it wasn’t her imagination when she heard the rustle of fabric. He was getting dressed.

  Sam drew in a deep breath. “One of the wolves from last night got away. I woke up a little bit ago and went out into the kitchen. He, Dean’s his name, was sitting there with Brenda. He must have gone back to the bar after the fight and then came home with her last night. They’ve been going at it all night, all morning. Seriously disgusting! She’s enamored with him, didn’t believe me when I called him out. It’s like he has her under some spell or something. I’m starting to really hate Samhain—the effects have never been this strong before.”

  “The holiday doesn’t normally correspond with the full moon. And let me get this right, you called him out? Fucking Christ, Sam. Where are you?” A myriad of sounds drifted through the phone. Grunts, curses, the jangling of keys, a muttered, “Fuck where in the hell is my gun?”

  “I’m in my room, with the door locked. When I left they were about to go at it again. Trent,” she closed her eyes. “He wished me a happy birthday, it was really, really creepy. How’d he know about that? Brenda I’m assuming, but still…I’m freaked.”

  “Does she know about the ritual?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “She does.”

  “No matter what you hear do not leave that room. Brenda starts screaming her head off, stay in your room. She screams bloody murder? Do. Not. Leave. Your. Room. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  She gripped the phone
harder and hissed, “What! No, I’m not going to let him kill her!”

  “Promise me.”

  “She’s my best friend.”

  “I swear to God, woman, I’m going to paddle your ass. Promise me.”

  “No.”

  A rolling growl tickled her ear.

  “Fine, damn you! Hurry up.”

  She hung up the phone and fought the urge to chuck it across the room. If things went bad, she’d need it handy. Clothes. She should probably get dressed. Damn it, she didn’t have any clean jeans. She settled on a black above-the-knee skirt that wrapped around to tie at the waist and a blue sweater. Once she was covered, she pressed her back to the door and slid down until her ass hit the carpet. She wrapped her arms over her knees and waited. It was too quiet. No bedsprings creaking. No wall-banging. What the hell were they doing? God, had the creep abducted her? Guilt gnawed.

  Fifteen minutes felt like an hour, especially since she checked her phone every thirty seconds. Finally, she heard movement. The front door opened, closed. Footsteps, heavy like a man’s, thudded in slow, rhythmic steps.

  “Where is he?” Trent’s deep voice carried through the walls and she blew out a deep, relieved breath.

  She stood, swung around and was out the door before Brenda even had a chance to answer. She skidded to a stop in the kitchen where Trent loomed over her roommate, all tall, sexy, imposing male.

  He looked official with his shoulder harness and badge, the chain of his handcuffs sticking out of his back pocket.

  “He bailed about ten minutes ago, said he had shit to do. What’s up with you two?” Brenda asked, looking between them. “I think I found my mate and you scared him off with that stuff about his pack.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open. “Me? You’re fucking a psychopath and you’re too blind with lust to see it. Wake the hell up. Every man you have sex with isn’t ‘the one’.”

  Trent strode across the room, plucked the knife from her hand and set it on the counter. Whoops. She hadn’t realized she’d picked it back up after getting dressed.

  “You’re being a judgmental bitch right now, Sam. Dean’s a sweet guy, he showed me a good time and he’s been nothing but nice to me.”

  “I’m the bitch?” Sam stepped closer, slowly decreasing the distance between her and her roommate who had thankfully put on some clothes.

  “Whoa,” Trent said and stepped in front of her, using his body to gently reverse her direction.

  Around his shoulder, she glared at her friend. “We’ve been best friends for ten years. Something is off about that guy. How can you be sure he wasn’t out in the clearing last night? Were you with him all night? From the time I left to the time you got off work?”

  The redhead licked her bottom lip and crossed her arms under her breasts. The tight green V-neck almost burst apart. Instead of answering, she tilted her chin up in defiance and glared.

  “Brenda,” Trent growled and narrowed his eyes. “I need an answer. That guy’s pack raped and killed a woman in the clearing behind the bar.”

  Brenda’s mouth opened but Trent spoke over her. “I’m not sayin’ he was involved one way or the other. Sam says one got away, information,” he glared, “that would have been helpful last night. Was he ever out of your sight last night?”

  They stared at each other for a full minute before Brenda cast her eyes down and bowed her head in a submissive gesture she’d seen her use with her father several times over the years. When she spoke, she didn’t meet his gaze. Her normally husky voice was somehow subdued.

  “You all kicked him out, he came back right after you left. Sat in my section, we flirted, I took him home. End of story. Now, if you’re done, I’m going to go get some sleep. Can I go?”

  Trent threaded a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, but Brenda, that pack isn’t right in the head. Too much violence. You may think he’s the one, but he’s not. You’re too sweet for an asshole like that, he comes around again, he contacts you, you need to let me know.”

  Sam’s chest squeezed tight at his sincere words. She bypassed Trent to take her friend’s hand. Brenda stilled but didn’t pull away. When her roommate looked up and met her gaze, her eyes were glassy with tears.

  “I’m sorry if I was being a bitch. I love you, that’s all.”

  Brenda sniffled. “Love you too. God, I should have known it was too good to be true. Just so you know,” she turned to look at Trent, “he was asking a ton of questions about the bar, about Sam. He said the pack wanted to move here and he wanted the inside scoop on the town. I didn’t really think much of it, but most of the time the conversation swung back around to you.”

  “Me?” Dread settled in her stomach.

  “Brenda,” Trent said. “Why don’t you go pack a bag and head on over to your dad’s, just to be safe. If you want, I can drop you off there.”

  Brenda shook her head and gave Sam’s hand a squeeze. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll drive myself. If I don’t see you later, happy birthday, Sam.” Her friend leaned forward and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her cheek before pulling away and disappearing down the hall.

  She turned and met Trent’s gaze. “I’m glad you told her to go to her dad’s. She’ll be safe there. The way that guy looked at me…” She trailed off on a shiver of unease.

  Trent crossed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. He drew her face up until he had her full attention. “You’ve always been good at trusting your instincts. It was smart of you to call me.”

  “’Miah didn’t tell you about the lone wolf?”

  He shook his head. “I passed out the moment my head hit my pillow and he wasn’t home when you called and woke me up.”

  Now that the panic had subsided, she took a moment to drink him in. His hair was tousled and messy. The dark dusting on his jaw had passed the stubble phase and was quickly becoming a beard. His shirt was on inside out. The jeans he’d thrown on were wrinkled. His official-ness took a nosedive, yet he looked sexier than she’d ever seen him.

  Much as she’d looked him over, he returned the favor, his gaze pausing on her skirt, then higher where her tight shirt hugged her braless breasts. Her nipples hardened.

  Heat and electricity shifted between them. He tugged her close, skimming a hand up her spine before cupping the back of her neck. She was only faintly aware of Brenda’s bedroom door closing, leaving her alone with a man who was bound to have an irrevocable impact on her life.

  “You need to pack a bag.” His words were a sexy rasp that played over her skin and moved between her legs.

  “For what?” Her voice was breathy and low.

  She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. Passion. Lust. Need. The heat between them was suffocating. She trailed her hand from his muscled forearm to the knob of his elbow. The gallop of their heartbeats filled her head so loudly that even if she wanted to think, she wouldn’t have been able to.

  Trent took a single step forward and she took one back, maintaining the slight gap between them. He growled low in his throat and it sent a shiver down her spine. Another step and she had nowhere to go. The length of his torso pressed against hers until she was pinned between him and the wall. Closer still, he didn’t stop pressing into her until his cock dug into her stomach. Excitement and anticipation knocked the breath from her lungs.

  “Because you’re coming home with me, babe. Grab what you need for your little ritual. Once I get you naked and in my bed, you ain’t leaving.”

  The dam inside that held everything back cracked under the weight of sexual tension. Her pussy went wet with need. Trent drew in a breath, as if he could scent her arousal. Promises filled his eyes as he ran his fingers down her cheek and over her jaw.

  “Trent.”

  He shook his head, stopped her with a finger against her lips.

  “I’m sorry about last night. You’re headstrong, bossy and beautiful. You’re my woman, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe that. You’re my mate, it’s my job to keep you safe, ke
ep you satisfied.”

  He never gave her a chance to respond. Alpha bastard.

  The coarse hair that dusted his jaw rasped against her cheek when he took her mouth in a kiss that sent them both spiraling. Demanding and rough, he moved his hands over her body.

  Mindless to anything except the male body in front of her, she lost all reason. She threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him against her as she stroked her tongue against his. When she tilted her head to the side, their embrace deepened. Trent pressed one hand against the wall beside her head. He cupped her hip with the other hand, caging her in. He ground his body against hers, his swollen cock pressing against her stomach while he devoured her.

  He pulled from her mouth, teeth scraping her lower lip. “Now, pack your damn bag before I fuck you right here against this wall where Brenda’s gonna get an eyeful when she leaves her room.”

  She gazed up at him, star struck at the naked desire darkening his eyes. She nodded. He released her and she walked backward in the direction of her room, not wanting to break their connection until she absolutely had to. She packed in a blind daze. She was slick between her legs, the moisture leaking from her slit teasing her thighs and reminding her she wasn’t wearing panties.

  Why start now?

  The moment she reappeared in the hall with a bag containing a couple of miscellaneous clothing items, Trent grabbed her hand and pulled her from the house. Magic gathered between their intertwined fingers and sent a zinging line of ice down the center of her body.

  Where they stepped over the loose, faded green boards, the porch creaked under their combined weight. Wind caressed her cheeks, bringing with it the soothing scents of the earth. Even though it was just past six in the evening, and darkness blanketed the sky, making it hard to see the forest surrounding her house, the air was heavy as if it might rain again. The moisture clung to her, made her skin slick and her skirt adhere to her.