Wicked Circle c-5 Read online

  Johnny had just finished showering. He rubbed a towel over his head and said, “I checked, and the moon will be midsky about four o’clock today. If you and the men go to the roof of the den, you could do the spell and be done before Menessos even rises. And the den is closer to the haven than here.”

  “Menessos said he wanted us to go to the haven together.”

  “No, he said he wanted you to go with him. Personally, I think you’d be better off to stay the hell away from the haven and the shabbubitum.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  He knew he couldn’t talk her out of it, but he had to try. “It’s not safe. They’re going to blame you no matter what.”

  “Menessos said he’d have a plan.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “I do.”

  Of course she did.

  “Those harpy things are coming tonight,” she argued. “I need to get ready for them.”

  “What are you planning to do?”

  “I left most of my supplies in Pittsburgh. I thought I’d run to Wolfsbane and Absinthe to restock, charge up my charms and maybe work up a potion, in case I need it tonight.”

  “But Menessos will have a plan.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Look, you were going to do magic anyway. This is just one more thing.”

  She sat up, irritated. “You don’t know what you’re saying. The forced-change spell isn’t easy or brief.”

  “What else would you really do? Sit around and be nervous, worrying about what might happen tonight? Why not stay busy with this?” he added. “For me.”

  Before him, Seph lay back. She stretched and yawned.

  When the covers shifted, he pictured her naked body writhing beneath them, despite knowing she wore her shirt and undies. Desire warmed his skin like the summer sun. “Please, Red?”

  She groaned. “Fine. Let’s plan to start the spell at three thirty.”

  He jerked the covers up and kissed her ankle.

  “I’ll need supplies,” she said. “What time do you think Beau opens Wolfsbane and Absinthe?”

  Johnny lifted his phone from the bedside table. “I can find out.” A few clicks later, he announced, “Noon.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Ten thirty.”

  “I’m up.” She threw back the covers.

  Her scent flooded his nostrils as the air of the room swirled. She was lean but curvy. She had the indication of muscle without the ripped physique of a gym-rat. It was utterly feminine, but minus any weakness the term could sometimes imply.

  Having selected clothes from her closet, she headed across the hall to the bathroom.

  When Johnny heard the shower switch on, he couldn’t get the image of her sudsy naked body out of his mind. Unable to restrain himself, he knocked on the bathroom door and opened it before she could answer. “May I join you?” he asked.

  She peered around the shower curtain at him, rubbing shampoo into her hair. “You’re already showered and clean.”

  He unzipped his pants and lowered them enough for his erection to show. “What if I want to get dirty again?”

  Persephone sized him up. “No biting?”

  “No biting.” I can do this.

  “Mmmm. Well. You’d better get in here, dirty boy,” she said in a sultry voice.

  The water was hot and the smell of her lavender shampoo was strong as he tugged the curtain into place. Persephone had her back to him and was lathering her hair. She giggled nervously when his fingers strayed under her shoulder blades, but when he began massaging her scalp, she braced against the wall and let her head fall back.

  The vibration in his fingertips was definitely milder with her than it was with the pack women, but it remained an aphrodisiac. His dick couldn’t get any harder. He pressed his swollen groin right against her backside. She rubbed against him.

  As he worked the cleanser through her long, dark hair, his attention caught on a group of bubbles that cascaded seductively down her spine and slid over her hips to his cock. Then Persephone pulled her hair from his grip, turned around, and backed into the shower spray.

  Her expression was intent, mouth slightly open, as she rinsed the shampoo out. He was mesmerized by her, by the water dripping from her nipples. He ached to feel that carnal resonance again. He cupped her breasts.

  She mmmmed and arched her back. Though the shampoo was gone, she stayed under the spray, arms lifted and hands buried in her wet hair, her body undulating at his touch.

  Yearning made him pull her from under the spray and crush her body against his. She responded by hitching one leg onto his hip. He held her there. He didn’t kiss her, didn’t do anything but stare into her eyes and feel the water sluicing over them, feel the erogenous purring created by their entwined bodies.

  Desire engulfed him. Need consumed him.

  “Come up here,” he said.

  Persephone’s arms slithered behind his neck and she pulled herself up, legs wrapping around him and ankles crossing at the small of his back. As she clung to him, he reached down and positioned his cock to enter her.

  “You want this?” he whispered into her ear.

  “God, yes.”

  On impulse, he asked, “How bad?”

  He felt her straining to maintain the difficult position. Standing-up sex wasn’t easy if he wasn’t supporting her weight by cupping her ass—and just now he wasn’t. “Very bad,” she said. There was a lack of conviction in the words.

  He was aware that he’d scared her before. He’d seen her hesitation at his joining her here now. He had to prove to himself that he could maintain control, but he also needed her to tell him she wanted it. He needed to hear absolution in the wantonness of her voice. In barely more than a whisper, he pleaded, “Tell me.”

  Persephone hauled herself up higher and drew her arms tighter around him. This brought her mouth close to his ear. “I want you,” she said.

  He let the tip slip inside of her. “Louder.”

  “Yes.” He heard her panting at his ear. He felt her arms trembling with the effort of holding herself up. “I want you.”

  He pushed his cock into her and she immediately writhed on him. He withdrew and demanded, “Mean it.”

  Persephone ordered, “Fuck me.”

  He rammed the full length of his cock into her. For all the tenacity of her command, when he gave her that thrust, her squeal and reverent sigh were the telltale signs of a satisfied craving.

  He said, “The rest of the day, you’re gonna know I did.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Delightfully sore as promised, I stood in the kitchen making breakfast. I wore Johnny’s shirt and my cotton undies; he wore only his jeans.

  Just as my finger hit the button that set the coffeepot to brewing, Zhan walked into the kitchen with an envelope. My name was beautifully scripted on it. That meant this was from Menessos. “I better get some caffeine in me before I read that.” I set it aside and gathered some mugs from the cabinet.

  Minutes later, as the bacon Johnny was in charge of was sizzling, I carried the envelope to the dinette table, sat on the bench, and opened it.

  My Dearest Persephone,

  Goliath has returned to the haven. You know where I am.

  I have increased the number of guards around you and your home. By the time you read this another Offerling sentinel will have arrived along with six Beholders who will maintain your perimeter. If you have not already done so, you should fortify your magical protections from the ley line.

  Even as you read this, I am negotiating for aid.

  —M

  That didn’t make sense because presently he was dead. I put it back into the envelope.

  “Did the vamp impart any pearls of wisdom?” Johnny asked from the stove. He fed Ares a slice of bacon.

  Appreciation of his physique delayed my answer. How can anyone eat bacon and still have defined muscles like that? “He’s sending another bodyguard and more per
imeter guards. He has an idea for getting help, but he wasn’t clear about whose help.”

  “Of course not.” He flipped over the slices in the pan. “When will the horde arrive?”

  “They are already here,” Zhan answered for me. “The perimeter guards are set up and in position.”

  I leaned over the table to peer out the window.

  “They’re camouflaged,” she said, pouring a cup of coffee. “You won’t see them.”

  “What about the other sentinel?”

  “Waiting in the car out front.” She joined me at the table. “Ares wouldn’t be quiet about someone new in the house, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.” Her consideration was remarkable. Well, to me it was, perhaps not so much to the sentinel stuck in the car. “Who did he send?”

  “Ivanka Chernov.”

  The plainness of her voice was atypical. “And?”

  Zhan sipped her coffee. “And what?”

  “What’s her story? Do you think she’s a good choice?”

  “She came to this country as a Russian mail-order bride. Her husband had a heart attack and died a month after the wedding. Nine months later she signed on with Menessos. That was almost six months ago. I think. Since then, she’s been well trained and is very disciplined.”

  “That’s a very tidy description.” I smirked. “Now say what you honestly mean.”

  “She’s scary dangerous and overbearingly stern.”

  “Stern?” I asked.

  “She sees everything in terms of her rank, above this one, under that one, and is eager to climb up the status ladder. She’s smart, but her strict adherence to the rules and regulations keeps her from seeing the bigger picture. So, she’s unlikely to accommodate your ‘unusual’ requests unless you pull rank. And her English is pretty basic.”

  “She’s been here over a year. Won’t speaking English help her make rank?” Johnny asked.

  “Yes, but she’s not much of a conversationalist, so mastering the language hasn’t exactly been her priority.”

  Johnny put down the spatula. “What has been?”

  His authoritative tone stunned me. Zhan hadn’t missed it either. “When you see her, you’ll know.”

  I could feel heaviness fill the room, and the weighted silence made it hard to breathe. “Does she like bacon?” I quipped. “This could be a good time to bring her in.”

  Zhan opened her mouth and shut it again without answering, then left.

  To avoid the pup going into a sniffing and snarling conniption, Johnny coaxed Ares into the garage with another slice of bacon. “I have to give Zhan credit,” he said, putting a plate with eggs and bacon in front of me. “She’s more than a pretty thug.”

  “Minimum IQ for an Offerling is two standard deviations above average.”

  “Intellect doesn’t always mean someone is perceptive. Or adaptable.”

  I picked up my fork and teased, “Is the Domn Lup saying he trusts a certain Offerling?”

  He brought his plate and sat across from me. “Do you remember the exchange she and Kirk had at your mother’s right before the pack had to leave because of the spell?”

  “Yeah. Kirk charged her with your safety. And she accepted it.” It wasn’t quite that simple, but it was an adequate summation.

  “Zhan hit it on the nose when she pegged this Russian chick as a by-the-book, rank-and-rule-abiding Offerling.”

  “You make it sound like rule abiding is a bad thing.”

  “It can be. It sounds like she’s a . . . a . . . drone, Red. That kind of sentinel will protect you and die for you, period. But a sentinel who can think independently, who can understand the master’s bigger goal and bend the rules to be a team player in support of that goal, that’s a rarer person, a rarer kind of loyalty.”

  A bite was ready on the fork, but I didn’t eat it.

  “You need to know who you’re dealing with and what you can expect of them. In no uncertain terms, Zhan just told you.” He shrugged. “If you expect rigid adherence to rules, you won’t make a fine-line request that bites you in the ass.”

  We locked gazes for a moment, but when the front door opened, we both ate. Still, I watched Johnny. A few months ago, he would have been flirting shamelessly with me the whole time we were alone. Now, he was telling me how to lead people. I was proud of him, glad for his shared insight, but I was also sad for the loss of our carefree days.

  A tall woman appeared in the doorway. She had short, spiky black hair and a beautiful oval face that didn’t have a brush of makeup on it. Because Zhan usually wore business casual, I had expected something similar of the new sentinel. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Ivanka wore a khaki green T-shirt and military fatigues. Add combat boots and a handgun on each hip, and the zero-percent-body-fat military bodyguard ensemble was complete. Her muscular shoulders and bulging arms dominated her appearance. She had a single backpack and a stuffed GNC bag.

  It was shitty of me, but I couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever been part of some Russian super-soldier experiment.

  “Erus Veneficus Persephone Alcmedi, this is Ivanka Chernov. Ivanka, this is your E.V.”

  Ivanka set her bags on the floor, lowered herself to one knee and bowed her head. Then she stood and mimed shooting a gun. “I have ninety-eight-point-four percent accuracy with revolver.” Her accent was thick. “I have black belt and run mile in three minutes, forty-two seconds.”

  “That’s all very impressive, Ivanka.”

  She pointed at the nutrition store bag. “I fix own meals and clean up. I sleep little, talk less. All I ask is three personal hours every day for strength training. This work for you?”

  “Yes. You’ll do just fine.”

  After Zhan ushered Ares out to Mountain’s trailer, Ivanka drove us downtown in my Avalon. She remained in the parked car.

  Once we were on the sidewalk and headed for the Cleveland Arcade, Zhan casually inquired, “May I ask you something personal?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is Johnny okay?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “He seems . . . different since Pittsburgh.”

  I didn’t know what to say. He was different. Responsibility changed people, or at least when they accepted that burden onto their shoulders it did. And Johnny had accepted a burden much heavier than most. Not only had he just been confirmed as the Domn Lup—meaning he would have to step into a global spotlight—but he also had access to all the power formerly bound in his tattoos. That wasn’t something I wanted to point out to Zhan, though. Saying he seemed edgy or unlike himself would imply that he was having trouble dealing with it all.

  I couldn’t do him that disservice.

  Yet Zhan was just being my friend. After the commanding vibe Johnny had exuded in the kitchen this morning, any good friend would say something. Celia would have mentioned it sooner than this had she witnessed it.

  But Zhan had shown she was willing to bend the rules. If I treated her like a confidante, like a good friend, that would put her in more danger. Not that I thought she would disclose girl-talk to her master, but if Mr. Manipulative wanted “the dirt,” she could be a source of it.

  Ability to see the bigger goal or not, her first and foremost loyalty isn’t to me or Johnny. She serves the vampire.

  We arrived at the Arcade before I had decided on an answer. Zhan hurried ahead of me to open the door. “I’m sorry, she said. “It’s not my place to ask things like that. I shouldn’t have.”

  I halted in the doorway. “Zhan, I’m grateful that you care. Answers are just sometimes hard to give these days.”

  “Answer or no answer, milady, don’t let a beast dominate the Lustrata.”

  That she addressed me by my larger title, not as E.V., didn’t evade my notice. Neither did the fact that she’d obviously heard us in the shower. Darn paper-thin walls. Warmth flooded my cheeks. I entered the Arcade.

  The witch supply shop was located just inside the gran
d, glass-topped mall. According to the faded black and gold letters underneath the name—and the clock on my satellite phone—it should have opened five minutes ago.

  I scanned around and saw no one in the balconies. The Arcade was not the shopping powerhouse it had been a few decades ago. All the warm bodies that were present were milling around in the lower-level food court.

  Among them, a short man clutched a lidded coffee in one hand and a Plain Dealer in the other as he trudged up the stairs. His long gray beard and curled moustache identified him as much as the Ivy driver’s cap of brushed twill and the bulky gray cardigan he wore over a beige button-down shirt. He’d teamed it all with khaki pants and loafers.

  Maurice. Beau’s hired help.

  He neared the summit, and I saw the blurriness created by the hefty prescription in the wire-rimmed glasses that perched on his round nose. The crack in the left lens that I’d noticed when we’d first met was still there.

  When behind the store’s counter, he had the “mystical wizard” act down pat, but he was a total fake. Anyone who had real power could tell. I didn’t exactly like Maurice, but Beau was clever to have him here. It was a means to identify the clientele and gauge who should and shouldn’t get to purchase items that would be dangerous to mundane humans.

  Additionally, since Beau was Bindspoken, he couldn’t personally touch the merchandise without causing himself physical pain.

  Maurice was pretty close before he noticed us waiting by the door. He paused a few paces away. “I remember you,” he said to me. “But I don’t know your name.”

  “Hi, Maurice. I’m Persephone.”

  “Yes, yes. Are you here for the priapean wands?”

  “No. Just some supplies. What is a pre-a-pee-an wand?”

  He chattered a laugh and shoved his newspaper under his arm so he could dig the keys from his pocket. “I’ll show you.” Zhan and I parted so he could access the lock. A brass bell chimed as the door swung open, and he flipped on some lights. We followed him in. Aromas mingled, pungent incenses and spicy oils mixed with the earthiness of dried leaves and flowers, all merged with scented candles and old books to form a smell that only another witch shop could produce.