Page 9 of Reckless Witch

Leilah hrmph. “Well, not anymore.” She lifts her hand.

Ethan’s silver lace tattoo glitters on the back of her hand. I give a low whistle. “Are you a recruit?”

She scowls. “A prisoner.”

I pretend to inspect her sigil and work hard to ignore the rose scent she must have bathed in. I sense magic roiling deep inside her, just as angry as she is. I’m tempted to stretch my arm along the back of the booth, but I’m not keen on getting stabbed or punched in the stomach. I know she carries a small blade hidden somewhere in the skin-tight skirt. Instead, I lean a causal elbow on the table.

She takes a sip of her drink and crosses her legs. My vantage point allows me to see her skirt ride up so high on her thigh that I’m sure I glimpse red lace. A hiss escapes my lips before I can stop myself.

“Something wrong?” she asks but doesn’t look up.

I’m grateful for that small mercy, before I realize the reason she isn’t looking is because she understands my reaction. My chest tightens. What man has already taught her to be so attuned to a man’s reactions?

I don’t reply. I can’t reply.

She lifts her head and looks me in the eye, but I can’t read a damn thing she’s thinking. Despite knowing her all these centuries, she remains an enigma. But aren’t women just that? Unsolvable mysteries?

Her gaze sharpens and I startle. Bloody hell, she caught me staring. I may not know exactly what she’s thinking, but I recognize that look. It’s the universal female look for I’m figuring you out. She’s smart—which means I have to step up my game, and quickly. Any other woman, I could outwit by using my Fae talents of seduction. With Ciarah, that’s like throwing gasoline on fire.

“I don’t care for organizations that become too powerful.” She startles me with the sudden change in direction. She lifts her glass, then pauses, the glass an inch from her lips. “The Academy shouldn’t have the right to upend lives whenever they choose. Or take what doesn’t belong to them.” She slams her drink down. Tequila slops onto the table. “They’re abusing their power.”

I can’t tell her the truth about her grandmother. I’m just relieved she was nowhere near the damn house while Miriam was playing god and consorting with the bloody Shadows. The woman deserved her fate. I should feel guilty about withholding the truth, but guilt has never been my favorite pastime. Plus, I figure Leilah will understand when she finally learns the truth. I pray so, anyway.

“The Academy must protect Margidda,” I say.

“So they claim.”

I sense a powerful shifter headed our way. I won’t mind getting Leilah off the streets, away from these kinds of characters.

The wolf halts and towers over the table as Leilah looks up. “There you are.” At six foot five, he’s a solid wall of chiseled muscle. Even in human form, he can’t hide his power; plus, he’s got some Middlewich in him somewhere.

He ignores me. “Got the goods?”

Leilah looks at me and says, “Business.”

She shifts in her seat and pulls a small vial from a front pocket hidden in her skin-tight skirt. The glimpse of her tanned skin sends a message to my cock that will demand satisfaction before the night is through. I grab my drink and slide off the booth with an easy smile that promises I’ll be back, but her attention is focused on the shifter.

A lovely redhead in a black miniskirt sashays past as I lean against a nearby booth. Her four-inch silver stripper heels catch my eye. I imagine Ciarah in my bed wearing those shoes and nothing else. The fantasy is going to remain just that.

I glance back at Leilah and her customer in time to see him disappear down the stairs leading to the men’s room. I sip my drink, my eyes on Leilah as she turns slightly aside and stuffs the bills into her bodice. She throws back the remainder of her drink. I take a another sip of my drink, push off the booth, then halt when a pale, anemic man of about twenty-one emerges from the stairs leading to the men’s room. I stare as he walks past, astonished that I can barely detect Leilah’s shifter lurking inside. How did she accomplish such a feat? Leilah rises and starts toward the stairs behind me. I step into her path. She halts and narrows her eyes.

“Impressive,” I say.

She studies me. She doesn’t trust me, but the gleam in her eyes tells me she’s confident of getting herself out of any trouble I might start. “Thanks.”

She abruptly seizes my collar. I realize her intent and allow her to yank my mouth down onto hers. Her lips. God, how I’ve missed that moist satin skin against mine. Our tongues stroke, but not nearly long enough, before she ends the kiss by sliding the tip of her tongue under the seam of my upper lip. Funny how she remembers the action through every incarnation. I grab a fistful of her hair. Soft as corn silk, as it’s always been. She grunts, then pulls back.

“My place?” I growl.

Fuck Ethan and Raith. They wouldn’t say no after that kiss, either.

“You wish,” she snorts, then walks away.

I force my breathing to slow and order my cock into submission while my eyes caress her curves, her buttocks. We’ve shared so many ‘first’ kisses, but this one surprises me the most. I’ve always been the one to initiate. I’d have much preferred a different ending to the night, but this rejection is better for both of us.

She’s going to be angry once she discovers I’m the one investigating her grandmother…the one who pronounced Mariam guilty of evoking Shadow magic.

Chapter Four