Rest For The Wicked(7)
Between one breath and the next, he changed from smoke wraith to human, but Claire would never forget what she saw. Or that he gave her such trust.
“Do you have—some water?” His sand rough voice jerked her back to the moment.
“Of course.” She ran to the back room, pulled several bottles out of the small fridge, and the other half of her sandwich from lunch. She dumped everything on the counter, afraid to touch him. He still looked—insubstantial. “There’s a roast beef sandwich, if you’re interested. Best you’ll ever taste.”
“Guaranteed?” He smiled, reaching for the bottle closest to him. He twisted the cap off and drained it in one long swallow. “Ah, better.” His deep voice smoothed out. He uncapped the second bottle, then reached for the sandwich. “Most of the witches I meet are vegan, or at least vegetarian.”
“I’ve tried. Repeatedly.” She smiled, leaning against the counter. “The beef keeps calling me back. I believe I lasted six months the last try. And swore never to put myself through that torture again.”
He unwrapped the sandwich, took a good bite, and closed his eyes.
“You didn’t lie. This is heaven in a bun. I am Marcus.”
He held out his hand. His right hand. Claire took it after a long moment, noticed that his palm was unmarked.
“Claire Wiche. No T. E at the end.”
“Ah—that explains the spelling on your window. Family name?”
Claire ignored the familiar twist of grief. “Something like that. Why are you really here, Marcus?”
He took another bite, then carefully set the remains of the sandwich in its wrapper. As if he would have to leave after he told her.
“I did not know until I saw you, Claire, but I came here for you.”
She pushed off the counter and put it between her and Marcus.
“Who the hell are you?”
He crossed his arms, still seated. “You know this already. And if you did not before, my healing told you all you needed.”
She let out her breath, forced herself to relax. “All right—let me reword it. Why me?”
“That I wish I knew.” Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He still looked shaky. And Claire couldn’t take advantage of that, much as she wanted to right now. “I will tell you this—I am not leaving until I do know.”
“As long as you find somewhere besides my shop to do your staying, I’m fine with that.”
His laughter filled the air, rough and warm. Like the smoke and sand he came from—
Stop it. She knew about their legendary allure, and she was being sucked in anyway. The average person wouldn’t stand a chance.
Claire unlocked her door and opened it. “Time for you to go.” He frowned at her. “I was just on my way out for something to eat when you detained me. I still have the rest of the afternoon to get through before I meet a friend of mine for drinks.”
“The lovely blonde?” He stood, using the counter. “She simply radiates life.”
She got in his face, careful to keep her tattoo from touching him. “Stay away from her.”
Marcus raised both hands in surrender.
“That is my plan, little witch.” Claire raised her eyebrows, and Marcus smiled. “There is nothing more beautiful than an angry woman. Enjoy your evening, Claire.”
He stepped around her, then moved outside and closed the door before she could think of a smart remark. Leaning against the door, she let out her breath, suddenly exhausted. She decided to close early and go home. She could call Annie from there and beg off tonight.
The way she felt, she would barely make it the two blocks home. And that scared her more than anything else she’d witnessed today.
FOUR
Eric came back to her store as the sun set in the ocean behind him. He wanted, needed for this to be over.
The store was dark, the closed sign mocking him. He swallowed the rage, his head pounding from the effort.
“I am disappointed in you, darling.” He froze as the voice wrapped around him. Long, cold fingers slid down his bare forearm, twined with his in a gesture that had dark need churning in his gut. “But there is a small way you can make it up to me.”
“If you’re here,” he said, his voice raw, “why do you need me? Why don’t you just take her now?”
“Perceptive questions, my darling Eric. From such a handsome devil of a man.” Natasha smiled at him, dark green eyes chilling him more than her touch. “I need her on neutral ground. Here she has the power of—friends.” The word came out like a slur. “And she will know me, once we do meet. I would have her vulnerable, her power weakened, or she may be the one doing harm. And we can’t be having that, can we?”