"I'm sorry, you're going somewhere?"
"No, come in." He gestured her inside. Her presence lifted his mood measurably. And no, it wasn't night. She smelled wildly extravagant. "Persimmons and something else," he said, sniffing at her hair.
"Cinnamon and a little myrrh thrown in for good measure. Ivan, I had to see you."
Reluctant to look him fully in the eye, she drew her gaze over his body as she fidgeted with the single diamond button at the vee of her stretchy black shirt. The please-bite-me curves of her breasts teased wickedly.
But Ivan couldn't help but notice the bruise on her forehead. Must be from last night's struggle. It killed him to know she could have been harmed worse.
"Thank the Goddess, you're...whole again." She swallowed. Finally her gaze held his. And tears wobbled at the corners of her eyes. "Are you?"
He hugged her, taking his time and sensing she was initially reluctant for the contact. Why did it have to be so difficult for her to surrender?
Because you will never be free from Himself. She doesn't want that.
Wrapping his palm across the back of her head, he pressed his cheek to the top of her hair. God, he didn't ever want to let her go. To protect her until his end days would be a dream.But he could understand her fear. The last time they'd been together, she had watched him get his insides torn from his body. Not a sight he wished upon anyone.
"I'm completely healed."
"It's because of me you were tortured."
"Eh, it was the same-old-same-old. There's not a brand of torture Himself can inflict upon me he hasn't already tried once or twice before. I'm fine, Dez. Holding you in my arms makes me better than fine. But what about you? All in one piece?"
She nodded. "Just some scrapes."
"I wish you would have stayed with me last night. Why did you run away?"
"Because I didn't want this to happen." She put up a palm, which was riddled with red cuts. "This...feeling stuff."
Ivan took her hand and kissed the palm. If only he had the power to heal her simple bruises and cuts, he would give up his own ability to heal. Hell, he'd let the devil pummel him nightly if in return he were granted the talent to heal the woman he adored.
"Feeling stuff," he reiterated. "You mean the part where your heart beats fast and you can't find the right words because you know nothing will come out right?"
A smirk lifted the right side of her mouth. "I thought the one without the soul was supposed to have the most trouble with that."
"I may be soulless, but that doesn't make me any less caring. I'm so glad you came to me, Dez."
"I couldn't stay away from you. I, uh..." Now a smile tickled her mouth and she shook her head, spilling her hair half across her face. "Well, if I can get beyond the torture, and your near death, then all I find myself thinking about is us. Yesterday afternoon.
Making love. Something happened then, Ivan."
"You felt it, too?" And here he'd thought it had been just sex to her.
He captured a few of her fingers at the crook of his palm. She didn't want to step closer. A woman unsure. It made him warm with the anticipation of her confidence.
"We're right for each other, Dez. We fit together-"
"Sexually," she hastened to say. "But I'm still unsure about a relationship. You know I didn't want that to happen."
"We can move slower."
"We've already jumped a speeding train," she said. "And I think...Ivan, I'm bad for you."
"Again, shouldn't it be the one lacking a soul saying that? You're not bad for me, Dez."
"I could never give myself completely to you, in the blood, as I know you desire."
"I can live with that."
"No, you can't. It's a part of who you are. And...and...I have secrets."
"We all have secrets."
"Yes, but-" He caught her in his arms. "Will you come to Paris with me?"
"What? Is that where you're headed? I shouldn't have come. If you're in a hurry-"
He had to tug to keep her in his embrace. The cinnamon notes of her perfume enticed him to nip her earlobe. He couldn't divine the origin or the scatter of scents, but for every kiss he pressed to her hair, and there at the corner of her eye, he excavated yet another intriguing layer of aroma.
Go further, and you'll be sniffing apricots. There, it is dangerous.
"I could stand here all day holding you, kissing you. Breathing you," he said. "Don't walk away. Tell me why you've come. Or is it so simple you wanted to be with me?"
"I don't think anything can ever be simple again. Not in my life. I came here because I'm desperate, Ivan. I have to get the Grande Grimoire back."
"That's no secret." He kissed her and grinned widely.
"What are you smiling about? This is serious business, I-"
"I know how to get it back," he said.
But she wasn't listening. "-if only I'd reversed the spell when I'd had it in hand."
"What?" Ivan gripped her by the shoulders. Her hair shivered across the back of his hand. "Reversed the-? Dez, are you saying...?"
She nodded. A small, perfect smile awaited his reaction.
If she thought to reverse the Protection spell, then that could only mean-"You were the one who created it?"
"I did," she said. "Eight hundred years ago and some months. Give or take a few days. Told you I had secrets."
Ivan snapped his touch away from her. She suddenly appeared so...much more than he could have ever imagined. The witches at the Gray Council had known greatness in their presence.
And now...he felt it, too.
He dropped to his knees before her. Dez shook her head, but he wouldn't have it. Reverence for this witch flooded him. She was responsible for crafting a spell that had protected the entire witch nation from slavery for eight centuries.
Impossible to fathom, yet easy to accept. He'd always known she was powerful, a match for him any day, even with the devil riding his back.
"Stand up, Ivan. I've given the grimoire to Himself. I deserve no false worship."
He wrapped his arms about her hips and nuzzled his face aside her stomach. "I love you, Dez. That's all. I love you."
"Oh really? An afternoon of sex does little more than stoke lust. Ivan, you don't even know me."
"You're in my blood."
"I am not. And I never will be." He stood and for some reason it felt disrespectful to tower over her, so he stepped back, down the step in the foyer, which brought them eye level. "You are a savior to my race. At least half of me."
"So now you're calling me some kind of grandmother to the witches? I don't think grandmothers have sex with their progeny.
And I'd really hate to rule that out of our relationship."
"So would I. And you just said 'relationship.'"
"So I did. Hell!" Tossing up her arms in surrender, she looked at that moment more naive and desperate than Ivan had ever seen.
A true princess in need of rescue from the dangerous thorns.
"God, Dez, I love you. It feels right to say that. I love you. And I know how to get the book back. Then the world will be right.
And we can be right."
"Oh yeah?"
"Himself set me to another task. And get this." He leaned in to press a lingering kiss to her mouth. "If I succeed, he'll not only give back the Grande Grimoire, but he'll release my soul to me."
"Ivan, that would be wonderful for you."
"Beyond wonderful, and that's why I'm headed to Paris. My research has led me there. Nineteenth century, but I figure if I ask around, maybe utilize the ancient vampire networks in the city, I can come up with results."
"What are you looking for?"
"Get this." Planting his feet, Ivan looked Dez squarely in the eye. "Himself was once in love. And, he wants me to find the woman who spurned him and bring her back to be his bride. It's another bloodless task! I just have to find one woman. I don't have to beat anyone, or make them see nightmares or destroy their lives. I simply deliver the blushing bride down the aisle to her demonic husband. How easy is that?" He checked his watch. "The jet is waiting. I should be at the airport right now."
Kissing her, he cupped his hands in the silken depths of her hair, imprinting his senses with the softness, the mixture of scents, her tiny moan as he parted lips with hers.
"I hate leaving like this, but-"
"Go. I understand."
"Sure you don't want to come with me?"
Dez shook her head. "I should catch a flight back to Maine."
"I'll return to you as soon as I'm finished. It would be a nice surprise if those damned rose vines were cleared away from your porch."
"Right. Ivan?"
"Yes, love?"
She turned, arms crossed over her chest. The smile was forced. He understood. His departure was sudden. He didn't want to leave, but if he made it quick, it would be easier for both of them. Because all he really wanted to do was kneel before her again, strip away her clothes, and pay her worship.
"So what you're saying to me," she said, "is that you'd sacrifice one woman to save many?" "Hell yes! One witch for tens of thousands? Doesn't that seem fair to you? I gotta run. My flight is waiting."
"Sure. Uh, do you mind if I stay here awhile? I want to watch the sunset from your view."
"No problem. The door automatically locks when you leave." He kissed her soundly. "I'll see you soon."
"Right." Dez waited as Ivan's footsteps echoed down the hallway to the elevator.
She shivered, but not from the cold. "Maybe you're not the man I thought you to be, Ivan Drake."
Chapter 19.
D ez's flight arrived in Maine at seven in the morning. The news on the cab's radio was dismal. And she knew, instinctually, it was undone spells.
A man who had struggled with cancer for decades and was miraculously healed two years ago dropped dead earlier that morning, his body filled throughout with cancer.
A world-famous musician took the stage last night, only to stumble off, dumbfounded, and apparently unable to play the guitar as he had become known for. His fans revolted. He was now hospitalized in critical condition.
A Bahamian village saved from last year's vicious hurricane had been swept into the sea early that morning. No survivors.
Vaccines just administered to infants in ten states across the nation resulted in instant death to dozens.
A lottery winner renowned for great charitable acts had killed himself an hour ago. A letter detailing his so-called deal with the devil was found near the body.
That last one didn't sound like a spell, but one never knew. Witches were as susceptible to devilish deals as common mortals.
It had begun. And she wasn't sure how to deal with it. Exhaustion tightened Dez's neck muscles. Though immortal, she still needed her eight hours of sleep, unlike vampires, who survived on but a few a day.
She figured Ivan must be setting foot in France by now. To begin a search for a woman he would condemn to Himself's whim.
The idea of it made Dez physically ill. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she wished the taxi would drive faster. Maybe she was coming down with something. She could cast a spell to ward off infection, but she wasn't sure what would come of all spells now that Himself held the Grande Grimoire.
Would any spell cast be recorded as usual? Would the spell even work? Or would it be repelled back toward the caster resulting in-well, who could know?
It had been more than twenty-four hours since Himself had taken it. She hadn't heard of any calamities within the witch community. Nothing worse than the war already at hand.
Which was odd in itself. Was Himself biding his time? For what?
She rubbed her elbow. The vampires who had attacked her in the alley had slammed her hard against the wall. A rough scab darkened the skin, and her palm was still raw. As soon as she got home, she planned to mix up a lavender healing unguent that should take care of the swelling.