Rush of Pleasure

Answering Jessie’s question, he said, “I brought the weapon to kill Calder, in case I run into him. But its powers aren’t going to protect me from him, if he tries to make me his host. So I didn’t see the point in wearing it.”

“Well, it’s foolish to take chances. You should make full use of its protection. Now lean down here so that I can reach you.” He shot a worried glance toward Will, who seemed to be enjoying his discomfort, then did as Jessie said and leaned forward a little. She lifted a small leather pouch dangling from a black cord and slipped it over his head. “If you’re smart,” she told him, “you’ll keep that on. It’s a special charm of mine that should prevent Calder from getting inside you.”

Holy shit. Noah wondered if he looked as floored as he felt. “Can you give me some to send to my brothers?”

“Of course.”

He swallowed, and somehow managed to force out an awkward “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she murmured, patting his shoulder in a gesture that was almost … comforting. “Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to step back into my office. I need to have some time alone with these papers you’ve brought me.”

Noah watched her glide from the room and shook his head, wondering if he’d slipped into some kind of alternate dimension. Rubbing his thumb over the strange pouch now hanging around his neck, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed. He could pick up traces of sandalwood and something … richer. Something strangely exotic. God only knew what it was, but at least it smelled good.

“I must be out of my mind,” he whispered under his breath, cutting his gaze toward Will. “Am I crazy for thinking this thing might work?”

“You should listen to her, Noah. Jessie’s an amazing woman.”

His laugh was soft and rough. “It just seems kinda strange, putting faith in a woman who’s wearing a rabbit on her head.”

Willow clucked her tongue. “Are you really that judgmental? Because you know what they say about people who live in glass houses …”

He brushed that off with a grunt and turned toward her, locking her in his hooded stare. For one dangerous moment, he had to fight the driving impulse to reach out and pull her close, locking her against his body, as well. But somehow he fought it down. “What’s going on with Sienna?” he asked quietly. “You can talk to me, Will. I want to help.”

“I … can’t. It’s too much.” Something tragic and aching flashed in her eyes, twisting his insides, as if the pain were his own. It was strange, how badly he wanted her to trust in him enough to share her secrets. There was no basis for the feeling. No logic, either.

“Have you had any contact with her?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been searching for her ever since she disappeared. That was late last year. But there’s been nothing. I’m starting to think she just doesn’t want to be found.” Her lower lip trembled with emotion, but she took a deep breath and hardened her expression. “After what you’ve told us, I guess I was right.”

He wanted to ask more, but knew she wouldn’t give him the answers he wanted. Not yet. The creak of floorboards announced Jessie’s return, and she came back into the room with a somewhat stunned look on her face, her odd gaze settling on Willow for a charged moment, before moving to Noah. She still held the papers in her hand, but they now looked singed around the edges.

“Have you ever asked yourself why that particular passage is written in a language that’s different from the rest of the journal?” The question was obviously rhetorical, since she didn’t wait for a response. “It’s because it’s a spell.”

“A spell?” That wasn’t what he’d expected. “A spell for what?”

“For a weapon.”

Okay. That was more like it. “And it will kill the Death-Walkers?”

She raised her brows. “From what I can tell, this spell will kill anything.”

Whoa. He definitely hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean by anything?” he rasped, his eyes narrowed on her smiling face.

“Mortal. Immortal. From heaven and hell and everything in between.”

Noah’s pulse roared in his ears, his heart hammering so hard he was sure the two women would hear it. Yeah, he had the Marker he could use against Calder, but that meant getting close to the bastard. And getting close meant giving the Casus the chance to get inside him. If there was another way to kill him, he wanted it. Badly.

“Can you write the spell down for me?” he asked, his voice sharp with excitement. “Is it one that can be used by anyone? Or do you need to be a witch?”

Jessie held up one slender hand in a sign for him to slow down. “There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s going to be a bit … well, surprising.”

Dread punched into his stomach with the force of a kick, knocking the air from his lungs. “What is it?”

“I was able to translate the main catalyst for the spell.”

“And?”

She slid a quick look toward her niece, then said, “You’re going to need a virgin’s blood.”

“Come again?” he rasped, while Willow started to choke and cough.

“A virgin’s blood,” Jessie repeated, resuming her place in the rocker. “And not just any virgin’s. It must be from an adult warrior. Not human, but of the clans.”

“Jesus Christ.” He took a deep breath and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “This has to be some kind of sick joke.”

“Come on, Noah.” Willow’s voice sounded odd, like a strange cross between horror and amusement. “You didn’t actually think it would be something easy, did you?”

He scowled as he looked at her. “Easy, no. But a little sanity wouldn’t hurt. I mean, call me a pessimist, but I don’t think a nonhuman, adult, warrior virgin is going to be all that easy to find these days. Whoever came up with it must have had some screwed-up mind!”

She shrugged, still looking as if she was struggling with her own reaction to the bizarre news. “The spell is obviously old magic, and virgins were considered sacred.”

Sacred. Right. Not to mention extremely rare in the twenty-first century.

God, he was tired of this war.

Blowing out a rough breath, he said, “What exactly is the spell, Jessie?” He had a bad moment where he imagined himself lurking over a boiling cauldron, reenacting the scene with the witches from Macbeth, but Jessie just frowned.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but I’m afraid that’s where my expertise ends.”

“What do you mean?”

“The passage is incredibly difficult, and I could only grasp bits and pieces. You’re going to need a demon to fully translate it.”

“A demon?” Willow gave a low whistle. “Must be one helluva spell.”

“This just keeps getting better and better,” he growled. “Where the hell am I going to find a demon?”

“Hell would be a good place to start,” Jessie offered helpfully, as if she’d just suggested he run down to the corner store and grab a gallon of milk.

Noah pinched the bridge of his nose and struggled for patience. “I know this might come as a shock to you, Jessie, but I don’t travel into hell all that often.”

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips, lost in thought, then clapped her hands together. “You could try finding an earthbound demon.”

An earthbound demon? Christ. Noah had heard of them. They were demons who had either escaped from hell and were now on the run, or who had been forced out for one reason or another. The hell dynamic was so complicated, he’d never gotten a good understanding of it when his mother had tried to explain the hierarchy to him. He’d never thought he’d need to … until now.

With a tired sigh, he said, “I don’t suppose you happen to know an earthbound demon who could help me out? Or even where I could find one?”

“No,” Jessie replied, her dark eyes almost glowing in the sunlit shadows of the room. “But … I think Willow can help with that.”

OH. MY. GOD.

Lifting her hand, Willow pressed it to the center of her chest and glared at the woman who’d raised her. She felt as if she’d been dealt a physical blow, the bitter burn of betrayal ripping painfully through her insides. She couldn’t believe it. Had Jessie lost her friggin’ mind?

“Will?” Noah’s voice was soft. Cautious.

Keeping her hard gaze on her aunt, she said, “Forget it.”

Noah looked between her and Jessie, who was just sitting there with a serene smile on her face, pretending she hadn’t just thrown Willow into the fire. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

“Willow has a friend,” Jessie explained. “His name is Damon.”

Noah grunted, the supremely masculine sound almost making her smile. “And this Damon is a demon?”

“Maybe,” Willow muttered, ready to strangle her aunt. Bracing herself for the coming argument, she shifted her gaze to Noah. “But I need to be searching for Sienna. I don’t have time to get involved in your problems, no matter how serious they are.”

“The Death-Walkers aren’t my problem, Will. They’re everyone’s problem.” He paused for a second, his dark brows pulling together … and there was a strange light in his eyes that told her she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “If you want to find your sister, then sticking with me is probably the best chance you’ll get.”

“How do you figure?” she asked, thinking he looked as surprised by what he’d just said as she was. If she hadn’t been so angry, the situation might have actually been funny.

He recovered quickly, vibrating that hot male energy at her while he pulled back his shoulders, as if getting what he wanted was a foregone conclusion. “Think about it, Will. What Jessie said is true. Calder wants my body.”

She shot him a cheeky grin. “He got the hots for you, Noah?”

“You know what I mean,” he growled, an endearing flush of color burning along his cheekbones.

Yeah, she knew. But it was easy to see why Noah would be considered prime host material. What male, no matter how much of a monster he was, wouldn’t want to wear that sexy skin? Women probably threw themselves at him on a daily basis, begging for the chance to touch and taste all that rugged, mouthwatering perfection.

She was truly playing her role as the awful bitch to a T, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, it was easier to be angry than hurt, and God, did it hurt. Just looking at him was a kind of physical torment. Just being near him. Breathing him in.

Noah had been the first boy who had ever made her feel like a sexy, desirable female. Who had blown her mind with pleasure that was so intense, it’d felt like she was dying … but in a good way. And no one had ever quite managed it since. It was like the bastard had marked her, every other man she’d known paling in comparison.

Still, considering the cards she’d been dealt, it was, in a way, good that things had turned out the way they did. Thanks to a certain pain-in-the-ass prophecy, nothing could have come of her crush on Noah Winston. But that didn’t mean that the way he’d ended things hadn’t stung. Having a guy tell you it was a mistake to touch you was never a good thing. As far as set downs went, it sucked the big one.

And yet, despite all of that, she knew she couldn’t refuse to help him. At least, not completely. Her goddamn guilty conscience wouldn’t let her, no matter how badly she wanted to.

“Fine. I’ll track down Damon for you,” she grumbled, pulling her phone out of her back pocket, so that she could enter Noah’s number. She knew Jessie was going to have a lot to say to her, but that didn’t mean she wanted Noah Winston around to hear it. Better to clear out to her own cabin, and come back to see Jessie later, before she left. “You got a cell number where I can reach you?”

His dark brows drew together in a straight line over those sharp blue eyes. “Reach me?”

She tried not to sound huffy. “Finding Damon isn’t going to be easy. He’s trying to avoid his ex, who has it out for him big-time, which means he’s gone silent. No phones. No pagers. I’ve got to hit the road to look for him. It might take a few days, but once I’ve found him, I’ll call you.”

He worked his jaw, something grim and angry darkening his expression. “That’s not how this is going to work.”

Willow lifted one brow in a slow arch and cocked her hip. “Did I miss something? I thought you wanted my help.”

“I do. But you’re not going after the demon on your own.”

“You want that spell translated?” she snapped, pointing her finger at the papers in Jessie’s hand. “Or not?”

“Yeah, I want it. But we get it together.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowed to hot, glittering slits. “The Death-Walkers aren’t idiots. If they catch wind of what you’re doing, they’ll come after you like a force from hell. Literally. I intend to be there to make sure you don’t get hurt. And I want to hear the translation straight from the demon’s lips.”

“No,” she breathed out, shaking her head. Hell, no.

“If you want your answers about Sienna, this is the only way.”

“I’ll get my own answers,” she snarled. “You’ve got to be out of your friggin’ skull if you think I’m just going to tag along with you for the ride!”

“The bastard who has her wants me, Will. That means you need me.”

“Maybe, but you need me, too,” she shot back, her temper getting the better of her. She never had been able to suffer arrogant men. And Noah Winston was as cocky and arrogant as they came. “You need me a lot. Remember? Damon might be the only shot you have at getting those pages translated!”

“That’s right. So we work together.”

Her stomach damn near bottomed out. What the hell had just happened? Closing her eyes, she stumbled back a few steps, until she came up against a wall. “Jesus, Noah. That’s a bad, bad idea,” she whispered, deciding she was going to have to add tricky to his list of character faults.

“I’m no happier about it than you are,” he said in a low voice, “but I don’t see that we have a lot of choice here. Unless you’re willing to tell me where I can find this demon of yours on my own?”

Huh. At least he knew better than to gloat. But she was still pissed as she opened her eyes to glare at him. “I can’t tell you something I don’t know. And he’d kill you before agreeing to help you.”

He gave a sarcastic snort. “Sounds like a great guy.”

Her smile was meaner for the fact she knew she was going to have to give in. The bastard was going to win, she was going to be stuck working with him, and God only knew what other horrors awaited.

CHAPTER FOUR

INSANITY MUST BE contagious. Considering the circumstances, that’s certainly what it felt like. Noah was trapped in his truck with Willow, surrounded by that mouthwatering scent, and the goddamn road seemed to stretch on forever, punishing him for the sexual thoughts that kept slinking their way into his brain.

Ever since his family had taken off in the dead of night twelve years ago and driven from Sacred to San Francisco, Noah had hated road trips. They made him irritable and tense. He’d been on more than he could count since joining the Watchmen, but he couldn’t recall ever feeling this restless while cruising down the open highway. He couldn’t even keep his damn eyes on the road, constantly stealing sideways glances at the woman sitting beside him.

She’d changed her clothes before they’d headed out, trading the halter top and shorts for a T-shirt and jeans. He’d hoped the change might be easier on his system, but no such luck. The outfit might have covered more skin, but the way it clung to her curves was just as sinful.

He should have known it was going to be like this. That he’d lose his friggin’ mind the instant he set eyes on her again. If he’d had any brains at all, he’d have holed himself up in some cheap hotel room with an even cheaper woman for a few days and screwed his brains out before setting foot in Sacred. Then he wouldn’t have had any left to fry. As it was, all he could hear was the slow sizzle of his thought processes as they smoldered and burned, surprised he didn’t have smoke coming out his ears.

Scrubbing a hand down his face while the other had a death grip on the steering wheel, he made a desperate attempt at conversation. “You gonna tell me why your aunt was wearing that rabbit on her head?”

Maybe she needed the distraction as much as he did, because instead of telling him to shut up, she gave a throaty laugh, the rich sound doing something funny to his insides. “You should have seen the look on your face when she opened the door wearing Rufus.”

“Rufus?”

“He was her pet, until he keeled over from old age. That was a few years ago.”

“Okay.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to wrap his mind around what she’d said. “So then Jessie wears him out of affection? To keep him … close to her?”

She rolled her head over the back of the seat to look at him, the side part in her hair giving her an Old Hollywood look, with those glossy curls falling over the side of her face. It was sexy as hell, making a man want to stroke those soft locks back, so that he could touch his mouth to the smooth curve of her cheek. The tender corner of her eye. The feminine arch of her brow. On any other woman, he’d have thought it was a practiced pose. Something meant to entice and allure. But there was nothing superficial or calculating about Willow. She was just naturally sexy, without even trying. And it was hell on his system.

“She doesn’t wear Rufus to keep him close,” she murmured with a crooked smile. “She uses him to project her loony persona.”

“Why does she want people to think she’s crazy?”

She rolled her head back toward the window, staring out into the starless night. “A woman can have all kinds of reasons for projecting a persona,” she murmured. “In Jessie’s case, I think she likes the protection her reputation affords her. With fear comes a certain amount of respect. But I also think it helps to keep away those who might have a romantic interest in her.” Another husky laugh rolled off her lips, the throaty sound making his muscles twitch. “And Rufus certainly does a good job of that.”

So he’d been right, after all. Maybe ol’ Jessie wasn’t nearly as batty as she appeared to be.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, Noah reached up and touched the charm she’d given him, wondering if there was a chance in hell it would actually work. After all, if anyone could pull off that kind of spell, it would be Jessie. The woman had an understanding of the occult that was unlike anything he’d ever seen. And then there were her Chastain powers, which were truly impressive.

The Chastain were at the high end of the power spectrum for witches—but unlike most of the other castes, they could mold their abilities into one of three specific specialties. There were the spell-makers, the warriors and the healers. Jessie, obviously, had devoted her life to the first, Willow to the second and Sienna to the third. As far as he knew, a Chastain’s ability to gain power was essentially limitless, depending on their lineage and how strongly they chose to train. In Willow’s case, considering her leanly muscled physique and the way she’d handled that blade that she carried, it was clear that she’d trained hard. But she hadn’t crossed over into the “dark side” of the occult, the way her sister had, which meant she’d be at a disadvantage if the two ever faced off together.

Noah hoped it never came to that, but then, he’d learned the hard way that just hoping for something wasn’t always enough.

“So now that you’ve blackmailed me into this working arrangement,” she said, “I have some questions for you.” She stretched as she spoke, rolling her shoulders back until her breasts strained against the confines of her T-shirt. From the corner of his eye, Noah stared at the delicate shape of her nipples, wondering just how much of a bastard he must have been in a past life to deserve this kind of torture.

Apparently a really, really big one.

Kneading the muscles at the back of her neck, she asked, “What are you guys doing about them?”

He blinked, trying to remember what they were talking about—but his mind had been blanked by lust. “Them?”

“The Death-Walkers.”

“Uh, not much,” he rumbled, quickly forcing his attention back on the road, where it wasn’t likely to get him into trouble. “At the moment, they’re pretty much handing our asses to us. We’re in deep pick-up-the-pieces mode, rather than prevention. We have no idea where they’re going to strike next, or when. Or even how many of them escaped when we fried the Casus in Meridian.”

“Have there been any problems with the media?”

“A few.” It was costing the Consortium a fortune to “buy” the silence they needed from witnesses in order to ensure the secrecy of the clans. Not to mention some questionable intimidation tactics that made him and the guys in his unit uncomfortable as hell. They understood the necessity, but that didn’t mean they had to be happy about it.

“And what about the Collective?” she asked. He wasn’t surprised Willow knew about the Collective Army. She was a part of the clans, after all, which meant she knew to be on guard from the fanatical organization of human mercenaries who devoted themselves to purging the world of all nonhuman species.

“The Collective are pretty busy at the moment trying to save face.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” she drawled. “They screwed up, big-time.”

They had definitely done that. In an ironic twist, the Collective had partnered up with the Casus after being offered a deal they had hoped would lead to the death of the clans. Instead, their greed had left the Army looking like idiots.

“The Collective generals might covet blood, instead of money or power, but it all ends the same,” he said. “In misery and death.”

He could feel the press of her stare as she looked at him. “And what do you covet, Noah?”

Apparently you, he almost muttered. But he managed to choke down that colossal blunder.

“I mean, what is it you’re trying to do?” she asked, without waiting for his answer. “Buy yourself some good luck? You should be trying to find Calder. Not worrying about how to stop the Death-Walkers.”

“I honestly don’t know.” He worked his jaw, uncomfortable with the topic. Hell, he didn’t waste time psychoanalyzing his actions. He just went with his gut and tried to keep his head on straight, which meant keeping busy. He didn’t like sitting around and thinking everything to death. Shit like that drove him mad.

“What about you?” he asked, wishing he hadn’t smoked his last cigarette. He’d never been much of a nicotine addict, but the past few months had been a bitch. And it wasn’t like there weren’t worse vices he could be indulging in.

“What about me?”

Noah slid her a speaking glance, then returned his attention to the road. “From the bits and pieces I’ve heard over the years, you’ve earned quite a reputation as a badass investigator. One who isn’t afraid to mete out some rough punishments every now and then. Kind of like a judge, jury and executioner all rolled into one.”

“Well, it does pay to be a little bit bad,” she said with a smile in her voice. “And I never hurt anyone who’s innocent.”

“And what about those who are guilty?”

“That,” she murmured with almost feral satisfaction, “is a different matter altogether.”

“Is that why you decided to focus on warrior training? So that you could mete out justice?”

“Oh, you know,” she said airily. “It was either that or go into Jessie’s line of work and end up wearing a rabbit on my head.”

“You got a thing against ol’ Rufus?” he teased, sliding her a lopsided smile.

“Naw, I just didn’t like the idea of anything squishing my hair.”

A burst of laughter rumbled up from his chest, and he was surprised by how good it felt, the husky vibration feeling almost new. Jesus, had it really been that long since he’d laughed?

“And really,” she continued, “I couldn’t see myself doing anything other than what I do. It just … works for me. I enjoy the travel. The freedom. And it probably sounds corny as hell, but I enjoy helping people.”