Chapter Thirteen #2
‘You think I didn’t pick up on the zing between you two?
Last Saturday night, Emberlyn brought out your protective streak in full force.
She’s probably the last person on this planet who needs you to shield her, but that didn’t stop your entire being from reacting when she was hurt.
You’re into her. There’s no other reason you’d react that intensely. ’
‘We’re not talking about Emberlyn right now.’
Ignoring that, Logan went on, ‘She’s nothing like I expected. I’d heard so much crap about her that I thought she’d be an uptight, spiteful bitch. She’s not.’
Eager to change the subject, Ripper said, ‘Back to what we were talking about before . . . what do we do about CeCe?’
‘I don’t plan to do anything. I’m not the one in the wrong.’ Logan stretched out his legs. ‘When she apologizes, I’ll accept her apology and hope we can go back to being friends.’
Ripper held that same hope. ‘Things won’t be the same, though.’
‘No, they won’t. She took a dump over everything I feel for her. Exploited it. Pushed the right buttons so I’d push you. I’ll always care about her, but I’ll never look at her the same way after this. Not ever.’
The front door swung open, and there was Emberlyn – clad in a skin-tight white dress that highlighted every sensual curve. Just looking at her made Ripper feel he could breathe easier. Which made no real sense – especially when his body had a habit of igniting around her, just as it did right then.
‘I keep forgetting to ask you to make more of those elixirs for me,’ he blurted out. ‘You got time?’
Those pale-hazel eyes narrowed, seeing right through him. Truth was . . . after that messed-up scene at the bar, after seeing his brother so cut up, Ripper needed to be with the one person who took his thoughts away from everything else. A person so grounded that she was steadying to be around.
He thought she might call him on his shit; demand to know why he’d really come. It wasn’t as if he’d need the elixirs soon – there wouldn’t be a full moon for another few weeks.
She didn’t challenge his claim, though. Instead, she opened the door wider. ‘I have time.’
Some of his pent-up tension slipping from his shoulders, he accepted her silent invitation and walked inside. The energy of the house – all interwoven with her own – put him further at ease, soothing the sharp edges of his mood.
‘Follow me,’ she said.
He didn’t even try not to admire her ass as they walked. He’d given up on that – it was a waste of energy.
Entering the consultation room, Ripper watched as she lit an incense burner, filling the air with the scent of sandalwood.
He glanced around, noticing the many changes.
Millicent’s possessions and presence had given the space a dank and creepy feel.
There’d been pockets of shadow all over.
He’d always felt cautious on entering. That off-putting vibe was gone.
There was color in the form of gemstones, rock quartz, golden goblets and candles.
The air was fresh and smelled of the bunches of dry flowers and herbs dangling from the ceiling.
Everything seemed to glimmer – the shelves, the altar, the stools, the cast-iron cauldron, the soft-cream walls, the wooden floor.
The room put you at ease. Drew you in. Tempted you to come closer.
Just like the witch currently bustling around it, collecting this or that.
He claimed the stool near the stone fireplace just as she began laying things out on the altar. An athame, jars, a clay pot, a bottle, a few petals and a weirdly shaped leaf that had been left on the windowsill near small potted plants.
But no book of shadows.
‘You already checked the formula for the elixir?’
At the sink, she filled a large chalice with water. ‘No need. I make these all the time.’ Returning to the altar, she poured the water into the cauldron and set down the chalice. ‘I just need to ensure yours is stronger.’
She chanted, magick dust drifting from her palms and into the water. Water that began to simmer. Bubble. Steam.
She was boiling it without fire, he realized. He’d seen Millicent do the same.
‘The best way to do that would be to use a drop of your blood.’ She winged up a brow. ‘Any objections?’
‘I’ll be drinking my own blood?’
‘Not exactly. It’s not like with cooking. These ingredients will make a potion. Magick converts the potion into liquid power.’
‘Millicent never explained it that way.’
Emberlyn gave a small shrug. ‘She preferred to be mysterious. I, on the other hand, like to be transparent where magick is concerned. So, you gonna let me use your blood or not? I don’t need to. It’ll just be quicker this way. But if you wanna be a pussy . . .’
He felt his brows hike up. ‘A pussy?’
Humor swam in her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me the big, bad Alpha werewolf can’t deal with having his finger pricked.’
‘I wasn’t actually going to object,’ he said, holding out his hand toward her.
A dart of magick burst out of her finger and touched his. A bead of blood surfaced on his skin, and that same bead flowed on a glittering current of magick right into the cauldron.
‘That didn’t hurt,’ he noted, surprised he hadn’t felt a thing.
‘Because I didn’t want it to hurt you.’ She pulled a stopper from a small bottle and peppered some black powder into the bubbling water.
He folded his arms. ‘So, Millicent taught you how to make this elixir?’
‘No, it was my creation originally. She tweaked it to give it more of a punch, though.’
A line tugged at his brow. ‘She told me she created it accidentally.’
Emberlyn smiled, crushing a leaf in her palm. ‘She liked her stories. Don’t be so sure she always told you the truth.’
‘Why do I get the feeling it was more that she didn’t think it good for people to know how strong you were?’
‘I don’t know. Why do you?’ With one hand, she used her athame to stir the potion as she added magick with the other. The water hissed, and more steam rose.
He silently watched as she went about adding this and that. Bark shavings. Lavender. Seed pods. A crushed petal. A dab of honey.
Every now and then, she’d sprinkle more magick into the mix as she again stirred it with her athame.
In some ways, she moved just like Millicent as she performed magick. There was no hesitating, no wasted motions. She was brisk, efficient and focused.
But in some ways, Emberlyn differed from her grandmother.
Millicent had always worn a little smirk as she worked, always looked up to no good.
There’d been some theater with her – dramatic flicks of her hand, speaking in tongues, letting her eyes roll back as she dumped this and that in the cauldron.
Emberlyn was poise and serenity, her movements so fluid they were almost sensual. She was totally in command, the sheer strength of her will spilling from her. Her magick came to her easy, obeyed her every whim as if it adored and would never question her.
And right then, he saw the fundamental difference between how she and her mentor had operated.
Millicent had directed her magick with arrogance and entitlement, like a tyrannical boss.
Emberlyn brandished hers with confidence and care, ever respectful of this force she channeled as naturally as she moved her arms and legs.
She hadn’t only learned from Millicent’s successes, he thought. She’d learned from the woman’s mistakes as well.
It galled him that he hadn’t seen Emberlyn clearly until recently.
Maybe it had been a case of self-preservation – if he considered her no better than Rosemary, he could fight wanting her.
Because it was precisely the time she’d broken the mating tie that he’d started to really struggle to observe her in a negative light.
Whatever the case, he no longer had his guard up around her. Emberlyn wasn’t an open book by any means, but she was an uncomplicated person to be around. Balanced. Calm. Steady. Not a game player. And so fucking capable.
She handled everything with the ease of someone who had total confidence in her ability to get shit done.
He’d never before met anybody so self-sufficient and competent.
She didn’t need anyone – relied on herself.
And she hadn’t let the assholes in the coven break her.
Everything about her screamed that they’d failed with flying fucking colors.
On the subject of the coven . . . ‘You ready for the meeting tomorrow?’
‘Yup. Clarence seems certain that Gill’s fighting a losing battle. I agree with him. The question is what my family will try after that little plot fails, because I highly doubt they’ll drop the whole thing so soon. Especially when it’ll infuriate them that their case went nowhere.’
Pausing, she added two pinches of sea salt into the potion. ‘But enough of them – they’ll be taking up plenty of our attention tomorrow. Want to tell me why you had a face like thunder when you first arrived?’
Not really. But he heard himself say, ‘I just had to break up a fight between Logan and Neal.’
‘Ah. Your brother didn’t take the relationship well, then,’ she assumed, sympathy washing over her face.
‘It made him decide that he was done pining for CeCe. He would have let her and Neal be. But tonight, they both went to our clan’s bar knowing that Logan would be there.
Things devolved fast. My brother is pissed that she’d want to hurt him that way.
While I’m glad he isn’t going to keep pushing for a triad, I don’t like seeing him so wrecked. ’
‘It must be disillusioning to realize someone that you love would resort to those measures to manipulate people into dancing to their tune.’ Jamming a stopper back into a bottle, she regarded him carefully. ‘You feel guilty. Why?’
Ripper felt his shoulders stiffen.
‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but don’t bother denying that I’m right.’
Ripper grunted. ‘The night we shared CeCe . . . I was hesitant. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea. We only ever shared women we didn’t care for. But I let myself get talked into it.’
‘And you feel that your brother wouldn’t be hurting right now if you’d just stuck to your guns.
’ Pursing her lips, she placed the bottle back down.
‘I don’t know if that’s true. I mean, she didn’t just run the idea by you.
She nagged you to agree. And when you didn’t, she tried some underhanded stuff to get her way.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had the triad idea in her mind for a while.
If that’s true, this might have happened in any case. ’
Ripper licked his front teeth, mentally chewing over that. ‘You could be right. She said she’s accepted that a triad won’t happen. I’m not sure I believe that, though.’
‘And you came here hoping I’d cook you up a potion that would make her leave you alone? Well, I could. Though Paisley uses a non-magick method and swears by it. She’ll hold a photo of an ex tightly while sending a Leave me alone vibe at it, and then she sticks it in the freezer.’
‘The freezer?’
‘Uh-huh. She says it works, so I guess you could try it.’
‘I might.’ He cocked his head. ‘Did Michael share you with anyone?’
She double-blinked, apparently taken off-guard by the question. ‘He pushed for it once. He was annoyed that I wouldn’t agree to it, but when the effects of the full moon wore off he was glad that it hadn’t happened.’
‘Who did he have in mind?’
‘One of his cousins.’ Staring into the cauldron, she waved her hand, and the potion stopped bubbling. She gave it one last stir and then nodded, satisfied. ‘All done. I just need to cool it down.’ A ribbon of magick swished around the pot, presumably cooling it.
As she grabbed several elixir bottles from a cupboard behind her, he said, ‘Generally, potions have a shelf-life. Millicent’s never did. Do yours?’
‘No. There are magickal hacks.’ She turned back to the altar and set down the bottles. ‘Anyone can use them if they know what they’re doing.’
‘Why doesn’t the coven use them?’
‘They probably could. But how are they going to keep their customers coming back regularly if they sell no-shelf-life potions?’
Huh. He hadn’t thought of it that way.
‘You can still make theirs effective for longer if you stick them in the freezer, but the coven would never admit as much.’ She fell silent as she deftly filled each elixir bottle before placing them all in a carrier box, which she then handed to him.
‘You lied.’
Her brows dipped. ‘About what?’
‘You told Kerr that this process is boring to watch.’ He fished the correct amount of cash out of his pocket and held it out. ‘You lied.’
She took payment from him. ‘Or you just found it entertaining when others wouldn’t.’
Possibly. He sure hadn’t been entertained when observing Millicent work. More like uncomfortable.
But Emberlyn? She fascinated him. Bewitched him. He looked at her, and he wanted.
And he knew he wasn’t going to leave without having her.
Just the idea had lust slamming into his system. She had slammed into his system. She’d hit him like a bus fucking years ago, and he’d been an idiot to think he could spend his life ignoring it. Acknowledging that to himself brought him something close to relief.
She pottered around – washing her cauldron, returning her ingredients, tidying her altar, extinguishing the incense burner stick – utterly oblivious to the fact that she was going to get royally fucked very soon.
Determination flooded him. He’d come here tonight for this. It had been his intention all along. He just hadn’t conceded it to himself until that moment.
He wanted to lose himself in her; had the distinct feeling that it would be an unparalleled experience.
A voice in his head cautioned him to be careful; that he wouldn’t be able to have her only once.
So be it. ‘I have a question,’ he said as they filed out of the consultation room.
She tossed him a quick look over her shoulder. ‘Then ask.’
‘You think about Michael a lot?’
She slowed her pace, surprised. ‘A lot? No.’
‘And when you do?’
Halting in the living room, she turned to face him and shrugged. ‘I wonder if he’s still alive. And then I hope he’s not. Which sounds evil, but he wouldn’t want to live in a Rabid state if he had the choice. And there’d be no way to bring him fully back at this point. He’s gone beyond that.’
‘It doesn’t make you evil.’
Her head tipped to the side. ‘Why did you want to know if I think about him a lot?’
‘Because I don’t want to fuck a woman who still considers some part of herself mated.’