Captivating The Witch. Michele Hauf
that an alicorn?” she asked of the object on the center shelf. “If so, I’m stunned.”
“I buy and sell objects of magical nature. And yes, the three items are a genie in a bottle, an alicorn and a bit of angel dust on the third shelf.”
Wow. A genie in a bottle? He’d better not let that loose or he’d be responsible for a world of hurt. The angel dust intrigued. It was terribly expensive to buy at the Witch Bazaar, and she’d never the interest in testing its efficacy. Angel magic was the most powerful of all magics in the mortal realm. But if handled improperly? The witch may wish herself dead as opposed to experiencing the brutal backlash.
But the alicorn continued to draw her interest. Unfortunately, fascination was quickly overwhelmed by a sadness that tugged at her very core.
“There’s so much positive energy leaking from the alicorn now that I’ve cleansed the room.” Her heart shivered. “I could almost cry. Did a unicorn get slain?”
“I’m sure it was taken from a dead unicorn,” Ed offered.
She gasped at his utter lack of concern, or perhaps he simply hadn’t such knowledge. “Unicorns don’t die, Ed. They are immortal. Oh, that’s awful.” She sipped the wine, not wanting to consider the alicorn anymore.
“Back to the questions about me,” Ed said. She suspected it was an attempt to divert her from the alicorn. Good call. Maybe he was more attuned to her feelings than she suspected.
Very well. What else did she want to know, beyond that he could buy an item that had likely been stolen from a living being and had caused it much pain? Don’t think about it! Her eyes strayed to his desk, which harbored only a closed laptop. She had no idea what he did. Buying and selling magical objects? He employed henchmen, as well.
“What do you do, exactly?”
“That’s a faintly personal question.”
“I mean here. In this office. What’s your job? Is it to do with the collection on your wall? Is it related to you being a demon or is it a means to a living?”
He scruffed his fingers over the back of his head. “Let’s say I head an organization dedicated to keeping the peace.”
“That sounds entirely too heroic for—”
“For what? A demon?” He sighed and propped an ankle over his knee, rapping his fingers on the couch arm. “What are you wearing that keeps me at a distance from you? Is it a protection spell?”
“Huh? Oh. But I thought you...”
She thought he’d wanted to keep it all business. But instead he wanted to get closer? The man’s duality was aggravating. Of course, he hadn’t kissed her since she’d arrived. Unfortunately. And did his aggravation over not being able to get close to her have to do with his wanting to kiss her?
And why couldn’t he— Hmm... She hadn’t thought of that. “I always pull on a white light when I do a job. It protects me from any rogue elements or vengeful souls that I may not have control over.”
“And demons?”
“From most breeds, actually,” she said. “You can feel it?”
He tilted his head back on the couch, closed his eyes, then smiled. When he sat upright, he turned to her and touched her hand but retracted quickly as if bitten.
“Sorry,” she offered.
“You must not have had the white light on earlier today when we kissed.”
“I didn’t. Your thugs surprised me and I wasn’t calm enough to call it up.”
“Could I ask you to take it off now?”
The look he gave her melted her insides and made her question if he’d asked her to take off her white light or, instead, her clothing. Yes, please?
She swallowed softly. “Depends.”
“On my reason? I don’t expect you to trust me, Tamatha. Or to feel safe. But I have kissed you, and... I’d like to do it again. But we can’t do that unless I can sit closer to you and feel comfortable. It physically hurts me to be this close to you now. It’s like tiny electric sparks are emanating from your body.”
“Wow. I had no idea my white light was so powerful.” Then again. “Oh, but, you know. Most powerful witch in Paris, here. Of course it’s going to feel like that.”
Whew! Fast save. She had to be careful. He had provided her a reason to keep him in her life; best not shatter that reason.
“If I take it off, will you tell me about those tattoos on your fingers? If that’s not too personal a question.”
“Yes, and it’s a little personal, but some of the sigils on my skin are related to my genealogy.”
Satisfied, she exhaled and then swept a hand over her from head to toe and pronounced, “Exsolvo.” The white light slipped away.
“I felt that. Like prickles skittering over my skin.” He rubbed his forearms, then inhaled a deep breath. “Wow. Now I can smell your perfume. Lemons. I like that. It’s different.”
“I preserve my own lemons. My house always smells like a lemon orchard. It’s a scent my grandmother wore, though I only know that because my mom told me. Grandma Lysia died long before I was born. So, those tats on your fingers?”
“Demonic runes. They are tribal. The history of them goes back centuries, maybe even millennia. They designate me corax and my location and alliances. As well, they provide protection within the demon community and rank me to others.”
“That’s a lot of information from a few crossed lines. Are you in a denizen?”
“Always been a lone demon. I prefer it that way. I, uh, don’t play well with others.”
“You’re playing nicely enough with me.” His smile was a little shy and she liked that he was willing to relax now. “Tell me about those dark marks on your neck.”
He slid closer and pulled aside his collar to expose the design. Tamatha leaned forward only a little. Didn’t want to spook him. “These are demonic sigils that form on my body as I age,” he said. “It’s indicative of many demonic breeds but not all of them. Major life events imprint on my skin. And some are spells and wards.”
“Really? That’s so cool. I didn’t know demons could do that. So a life event? Like what?”
“Anything. Dangerous encounters. Life-changing events. The move to Paris from Italy a decade ago. Defeating Himself’s plans to send a dangerous demon into this realm. Growing into my horns. And I’ve already explained coming into my shifting abilities with the feather.”
She eyed the hematite nubs at his temples and then tapped his gloved knuckles. Ed pulled away.
“Does that hurt when I touch them? I touched the ones on your temples earlier this afternoon when you had me pressed against the wall.”
“I know you did. That touch was...” He blew out a breath laden with what she guessed was repressed lust. “Just take it easy, will you? Should you get cut, the thorns on my knuckles are capable of imbuing poison into your bloodstream, resulting in death. As for the horns on my temples...they are...sensitive.”
“Oh.” She’d take that sensitive as meaning sensually sensitive. Interesting. But she wanted to learn more about the thorns. They were a new bodily enhancement to her. “Poison? So you never take the gloves off?”
He clasped his hands together. “Only when I’m alone.”
“Bummer. Must make for some weird—” She almost said “sex.” Tamatha swallowed the last of her wine awkwardly. “So that mark on your lower neck looks like a scythe, actually.”
“It imprinted after I got my horns. Puberty stuff, like the feather. This here.” He traced