Rush of Pleasure

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.”