In the Company of Witches(35)

She wrinkled her nose and tried to ignore it. They’d stop when previews were done. Maybe.

Mikhael stretched an arm behind her seat, his sprawling, lazy predator pose. As he did, a tiny spiral of energy flickered from him. Instantly, all those lights went out. She registered various levels of consternation, a few people rising to go to the lobby to see if perhaps they’d lost their signal. She leaned back into the span of his arm.

“You blocked them?” she whispered.

“I fried their batteries. Your local electronics vendor can send me a thank-you.”

She regarded his profile in the dim light. He was balling up a Reese’s peanut butter cup wrapper in one hand, his other idly caressing her shoulder beneath the rolled neckline as he watched the previews.

“I might decide to like you, Mikhael,” she murmured. “Maybe.”

When he gave her a warm sidelong glance, the movie started, so she settled down in the curve of his body to watch.

At the tea parties she’d held, she’d heard about the Twilight movies from women with teenage daughters. Despite her comment about the teen angst, she found herself unexpectedly swept up in it. Elceus had taken her when she was on the cusp of being a teenager, when she was learning about crushes. Since she’d had one or two before that critical turning point, she vaguely recalled the way the heart pounded at new love, how everything was about him, nothing in the whole universe more important.

As a succubus, she was very susceptible to emotional input—when she allowed it. Even so, she knew she’d become more immersed in the male beside her than she’d believed possible. With him, she had all the elements of a crush. The heart-fluttering anxiety, the anticipation. She was hyperaware of his arm on the seat behind her, how it slid down her upper arm, his knuckles touching the side of her breast, then slowing there, shortening the stroke, telling her that it wasn’t incidental contact.

Then he touched her face, her neck, guiding her face toward him with firm purpose. She laid her head on his shoulder as he pressed it there, as his face dominated her vision. He covered her mouth with his, pushing her back into the seat, making the kiss deep, long and wet. Warm. His other hand cupped her breast fully, kneaded and stroked. Then he slid down her stomach, letting his fingers firmly grip her hip, thumb brushing the crease between it and her thigh, intimately close to other things. They were making out in a movie theater, like teenagers, and she was loving every moment of it.

MIKHAEL NEVER IMAGINED ANYONE WITH HER EXPERIENCE could be so responsive. She was saturated by sexuality, nothing new to her. Yet everything in her craved and yearned and hungered, as if she couldn’t get enough. Turning that mirror on himself, though, he’d been in hundreds of beds. Or rather, he’d been in hundreds of women, since often no beds were involved. But with her, it felt different. He wanted to stay in this darkened movie theater, teasing her lips, fondling her breasts, getting her more and more hot and bothered and himself the same way, all day long. He could touch her for hours. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about Isaac or his mission at the moment. It was just all her.

The movie had aroused her, such that when her eyes flickered toward him, calculating, measuring, desiring, there was no way he could pass up that opportunity. Not when he wanted it just as badly.

“Part your legs,” he muttered against her mouth. She obeyed, making that tiny, pleading noise in the back of her throat she did when he issued a command. He slid his hand between the heat of her thighs, stroked her, knowing the panties were wet underneath thin denim. Her hand tightened on the chair, the other against his side, fingernails digging into him through his shirt.

He delved deeper into her mouth. He did want to protect her, care for her, buy her things even though she had a whole houseful of things. He suddenly understood the cultures where men brought items to the doorstep of a chosen bride, piling up skins and trinkets as proof he would do anything, give her anything, to make her his. It wasn’t about the things. It was about what he wanted to give.

Raina didn’t need things. She needed someone she could trust, someone who would be her equal and maybe a little bit more than that at certain times, who could provide her support when her responsibilities became too heavy, who could play with her or overpower her; whatever was needed so she didn’t have to handle every damn thing alone.

While he’d been oddly touched by her amusing offer to buy him things, to take care of him, he’d seen that side of her with her staff. When she truly committed herself, gave her heart, she was as fierce as any male warrior. No one would harm what was hers, unless it was over her dead body.

A thought he didn’t particularly care to dwell upon, and then it was driven out of his head as she slid her hand over his thigh to cup his balls and erection. Her thumb stroked him, fingers tugging at the button of his jeans, not to open them, but to convey want and need. He rocked the heel of his hand over her clit, and the friction of the denim drove her even higher, so her hand convulsed. He was going to use that dissembling spell and take her right here in the movie theater.

No, he wasn’t. While tempting, he wanted her to have the real experience, not one altered by magic. So he eased up, stroking her hair, tightening his fingers in it to bring them back apart. Her lips were swollen, eyes filled with that hazy desire that made him think of her twined in her sheets naked, that lush body revealed to him in its full glory.

He pressed her head back to his shoulder, squeezing her fingers before he laid her hand lower on his thigh, holding it there. She smiled against his shoulder at his self-restraint, but her fingers also closed over his thigh. An uncertain little sigh lifted her shoulders. She was smart enough to realize this was stepping outside the borders of a casual, opportunistic liaison. He knew it was something he’d never felt, which alarmed him enough to keep it to himself, for various reasons. For one thing, women tended to get all sorts of strange ideas when a man said things like that out loud.

Based on what he knew of Raina, her reaction would probably be total horror.





12



“I’VE BEEN MARINATED IN TEENAGE GIRL HORMONES.”

Raina laughed, her green-gold eyes sparkling at him. As they came out of the theater, they found the day had become more overcast, but in a pleasant way. The breeze flirting along the sidewalk threatened an afternoon storm, but it was still far enough off that the pedestrian traffic could risk continued trawling.

“If you start giggling or having fits of melodrama, I’ll rush you to the doctor for a high-octane testosterone shot right away.” She sighed, did a twirl on the sidewalk. It sent a wave of sex demon energy floating in all directions. Mikhael’s spellwork had to work double time to zap it. At times the sexuality she exuded hit high peaks. As accomplished as he was, he had to stay on his toes to modulate it. Thinking about the power of the shields she put into her house to protect her staff and her clients, he didn’t wonder why she stayed close to home.

“I think you got doused the same way I did. But it looks good on you.”

She smiled, a mischievous gypsy temptress. She came back to his side to take his hand. “I admit, it did make me feel girlish and moony. I think that’s why the movies are so popular. Women lose that side of themselves over time; not a lot of chances to indulge it. Which is sad, because it’s more fun to indulge when you’re an adult. When you’re a teenager, the hormones can be pretty horrific and intense. So I heard.”

“Never experienced them yourself?”

“I was enslaved to a demon by then,” she commented dryly. “There wasn’t a lot of room for them. When they happened, they manifested as homicidal rage.”

He squeezed her hand. Then swung her behind him as a loud clattering disrupted the normal shopping noises. Locating the problem, he eased his hold. An outdoor display at a shop across the street had collapsed, sending inventory in all directions. Rubber balls with happy faces painted on them bounced into the street, hitting cars, rolling beneath them.

One safely reached their side, coming to a stop against the foundation of the blown glass shop. Raina retrieved it, then returned to his side. “My hero, protecting me from the invasion of misfit toys. Apparently, I’m going to get to introduce you to Ramona.”

Raina gestured toward the store. As he read the sign—Toys, Tea, Herbs and Magic—she grinned. “Come on. You’ll enjoy this.”

He guided her across the street, eyeing the cars that slowed while she gathered up balls. Since other pedestrians were helping as well, Raina expected the vehicles would have stopped regardless. However, whether his appearance was disguised or not, enough of his indomitable nature penetrated that no one dared even a mildly impatient expression, let alone a rudely blown horn.

She and Ruby had thought Ramona’s name for the store was too straightforward, but they’d been wrong. The amalgamation drew visitors and locals alike. Her witch friend was also an agent of chaos, so something fascinating was always happening within or without, like a collapsing display. As they came up on the curb, a dozen little kaleidoscope pinwheels were still spinning on the concrete. Mikhael helped her corral those, amusing her enough that she didn’t use a discreet burst of broom magic to sweep them up into a tidy pile.