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He approached her, reminding her of a panther stalking its prey. She backed up, but the desk stopped her. The big chair nudged her hip. It suddenly became very apparent how in over her head she was.
He’d orchestrated all of this. Maybe not the task in Salem—but stealing the dagger, getting her here, and inciting the wrath of the High Witches. “You’re a heavy-handed bastard, you know that?”
He shrugged and she caught a whiff of his scent. That same enticing spice. And he was close enough now that she could feel his heat. She hated it, but her mind kept jumping back to the past. To all the good times they’d had. Practicing magic, watching the sunrise, talking late at night while studying the stars. How much she’d loved his kisses. His touch.
He’d hurt her—but before that, there’d been so much good.
Standing so near him right now only reminded her of the fact. He might be a colder, darker version of his old self—no doubt twisted by the loneliness enforced upon warlocks—but he still made her burn.
There was no amount of anger in the world that could stop her from wanting him. And the hurt had faded just enough that her desire could take over. She clenched a fist to keep from reaching out to touch his broad chest and forced her mind back to the task. “So, how are you going to help me?”
“I didn’t say I’d help you. Just that I’d consider it.”
Oh, the arrogance. Hot rage flared in her chest. She wanted to hit him.
“But first, I want my payment.”
“Wh-what?”
“You.” His golden eyes blazed with heat. Part of him might be cold, but there was another part of him that wasn’t. His wolf’s soul, perhaps. Whatever it was, it burned. His gazeseemed to glow, his body vibrating with tension. He didn’t reach out to touch her, but she could tell he wanted to.
She’d never been wanted like this before. So much so that she couldseeit. In the heat of his eyes, the way his breath came harder, and his shoulders tensed. “What do you mean, me?”
It was a stupid question, but she needed time to get her wits together. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kitty leave the room. Whenever there was the possibility of her Bruxa having sex, Kitty left. If Sofia needed her, she’d feel it and return.
“You know what I mean.” His voice rumbled as he reached up and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her to him until her body pressed against his.
Yes.Desire flared hard, impossible to ignore.
His heat and hardness seared her, his erection a brand that ignited fires so intense she hadn’t felt them in nearly four hundred years. Since him. They’d never gone past kissing, but he clearly meant to remedy that.
Malcolm loomed over her, his body blocking out the firelight. She shivered. His golden gaze captured hers as he lowered his head. She strained up to meet him, quivering against his strength. Her lips hovered close to his, sending sparks of anticipation down her spine.
His big hand pressed against the small of her back. The sense of being captured overwhelmed her, snapping her back to her senses.
He’d trapped her.
She shoved against his chest, breaking free. The desk pressed against her ass, ensnaring her, but she’d pushed him back a couple feet and gained some breathing room. “No way in hell.”
“I’ve been in hell. There’s a way.”
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Why not? It’d be good. I always thought you’d be a good lay.”
“A good lay?” Fury boiled in her chest. No matter how much she might want him, she couldn’t ignore that. “You’d better believe it, but you’re sure as hell not going to find out.”
“Without my help, you won’t save your village. The High Witches and the Salem Coven are too strong.”
“I have friends who can help me.”
He shrugged and she wanted to hit him. He inspired her to violence as much as he inspired her to lust.
“You have friends,” he said. “But none powerful enough. You have the strongest magic in your village. They need you to protect them, not to drag them off to fight a war.”
Her heart threatened to fall to her feet. He was right. Bruxa’s Eye was full of powerful Mytheans. As a group, they were immensely powerful. But she couldn’t ask them to wage war on the Salem Coven—and that’s what it would take, if she only had their help. Their strength was in their numbers.
No, she needed a single person, at most two—someone whose magic rivaled hers—to help her sneak in and steal the Salem Coven’s Grimoire. Stealth and strong magic were the only way to win this.
