Chapter 5
Isnap a hair tie around my wrist and grab my running shoes from the closet.
It’s still humid as fuck outside, but I need to go for a run.
Wearing just a sports bra and shorts, I jog down the rear staircase, coming into the kitchen.
Jacques is sitting at the table in here, head bent down over my grimoire.
He’s been translating it into English for me, and the process is slow going.
Mostly because he only has a few hours to work on it before he gets turned into stone again.
The answer to breaking the curse is in there somewhere. It has to be.
“Going out?” he asks, flicking his eyes up at me for half a second.
“Yeah. I need to run.”
“Feeling restless again?”
I open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water. “Is it that obvious?”
“No. But I can tell.”
Biting my lip, I turn around and face Jacques. The others don’t know about the weird bond Jac and I share, and neither of us are eager to bring it up. I’ve seen into his mind, read his thoughts, felt his emotions. We’ve fucked many times in our dreams, and it’s not your run-of-the-mill sex dream.
I dream it.
He dreams it.
It’s all kinds of fucked up.
“I have a lot on my mind,” I offer, twisting the cap off the water bottle.
“Are you thinking about work?”
I take a drink and nod. “And other things.”
“You’re not going to elaborate, are you?”
“There’s no point,” I sigh, my mind flashing to the image of my dead parents. My mother’s lifeless eyes haunt me the most. “Nothing can change the past.”
“Right.” Jacques sets down his pen and closes the book. He stands, stretching his large wings out behind him. “And speaking of the past, I finished another section of the book.”
“Thank you. What’s this one about?”
“Goetia.”
“What is that?”
“Complicated dark magic.”
“Oh.” I put the cap back on my water bottle. “So my ancestors were into dark shit, huh?”
“I’m not sure. It’s explained, but there are no spells indicating its use.”
I nod, and that feeling of frustration comes rushing back.
If my mom were alive, would I have answers to these questions?
I never knew about this house or my aunt.
As much as I don’t want to harbor feelings of resentment, I can’t help but feel them start to form.
I was young, too young for any of this to be explained, but did they know I’d come into powers eventually?
I just want to talk to my mother.
“Goetia involves conjuring demons to carry out acts for you,” Jacques goes on.
“You weren’t kidding on the dark part. I’m guessing there’s a catch.”
Jacques gives me a wry smile. “There’s always a catch, and demons always want something in return.” He steps closer and my heart lurches. “It’s not something you want to get involved in.”
I run my eyes down his bare, muscular chest, stopping at the waistband of the athletic pants he’s wearing. He was surprised at how comfortable and light the fabric was when he put them on, and it was oddly endearing. There are so many things I take for granted here in this century.
He reaches out, fingertips brushing over the top of my shoulder. A chill runs through me, but instead of making me feel cold, it sparks a fire along my spine, heating me up from the inside out.
Jacques brushes my hair behind my shoulder and runs his hand down the length of my arm, stopping at my fingers. Gently, he intertwines his with mine, and inches closer. Intense feelings of love and desire threaten to take over, and I struggle to separate them from what I’m really feeling.
I like Jac.
I’m attracted to him.
I’d very much like to feel his arms around me, have his lips press against mine, and have his cock thrust into me.
He’s looking at me the same way, but I wonder if he’s looking at me and seeing her. Braeya. The woman who cast love spells on him, messed with his heart and head, and ultimately, was the reason all four of the guys got cursed to be the way they are.
My eyes fall shut and I bring my head down, resting it against Jacques’s chest. Slowly, he slides his arm around me, resting his hand on the small of my back. My heart lurches. I bring my free hand up, feeling the small ridge of scar tissue on his side. Everything inside me is on fire.
His other hand settles on my waist, and he shuffles closer, widening his legs. I move in, needing to feel more of him against me. He moves his head down, parting his lips. Goosebumps break out along my arms, and my heart starts to pound.
“You should run before it gets too late,” he whispers, fingers digging into my flesh. He’s fighting his feelings toward me, or at least his attraction. I don’t know why, and it’s getting harder and harder not to feel hurt by it.
I swallow my pounding heart, not ready to move away. “Do you want to come with me?”
He brings his head down, nuzzles his lips against my flesh. “Why run when I can fly?”
His breath is warm against my neck and his words make me smile. “True. If I could fly I probably wouldn’t go for a run in this heat either.”
“Be careful out there.”
“I will be.” Lifting my head, I look into his eyes and see the longing and desire reflected back at me. I’m tempted to kiss him, to be the one to make the first move and just see what happens. As if he can read my mind—again—he moves away, picking up the grimoire and going back to the table.
“I’ll keep watch tonight,” he says, voice strained. Taking the notebook and the grimoire with him, he goes out the back and takes off into the night.
Trying to shake off the feelings he gave me, I take another drink of cold water and head outside, stopping on the cobblestone path leading to the driveway for some light stretching.
Hasan jumps from the roof, gracefully sailing down to the ground next to me.
“The usual path tonight?” he asks, looking out at the street.
“Yeah,” I say, and pull one arm across my body. “Though I probably won’t go as far. It’s pretty damn hot out, but I need to run. Either that or hit someone,” I grumble, and pull my hair up into a ponytail.
He gives me a grin. “Hit me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think you can take me?”
“I know I can take you.”
Rolling my neck, I move back and take on a defensive stance. “Come at me, bro.”
“Bro?” He cocks his head to the side.
“Never mind.” Using the distraction to my advantage, I take the first swing and almost get Hasan right in the face. He ducks out of the way at the last minute and blocks my blow before turning on me and sending one my way.
We continue sparring, practicing our moves and perfecting my defenses. I spin around, ready to land a kick right between Hasan’s legs, when he jumps up, wings spread.
“No fair,” I pant, lowering my leg. I wouldn’t really kick him that hard in the dick. I happen to like his big dick too much to risk hurting it. “I can’t fly.”
“Your opponents are rarely your equal,” he tells me. There’s something sexy about a guy with an accent, and something even sexier about a guy with an accent who can get your blood pumping the way Hasan just did.
“Right. And once I learn to do this—” I flick my hand out, trying to conjure the flames. Nothing happens. I shake my head at myself and lower my hand. “Then I’ll be the one on top.”
Hasan suddenly advances, taking me by the waist. “I do like when you’re on top.” He crushes me in an embrace, lips landing on the side of my neck. “Your heart is beating fast.” He flattens his large paw of a hand over my chest, feeling my pulse.
“Sign of a good workout, right?”
He nods, gathering my hair in his hand. “Why did you want to hit something?”
I let my eyes fall shut and my head rest against his firm chest. “It’s just…I don’t know.”
He moves away only so he can give me an incredulous look. “I don’t believe you.”
“You shouldn’t. Because I do know.” Letting out another breath to try and steady my breathing, I turn away from Hasan to grab my water.
I take a drink, pass the water to Hasan, and sit on the stone steps leading to the house.
“I’ve been wondering a lot lately if my mom knew about this…
about the magic. It would be so much easier if she’d told me about it, or left some sort of cryptic ‘if-you’re-watching-this-then-I’m-dead’ sort of video for me to watch that explains it all. I just…I feel alone.”
“You’re not alone.” He says each word slowly and deliberately. His words, though simple, strike something inside of me, and the tears I fought off earlier threaten to come back.
“I know,” I whisper, eyes shutting. “I know.”
Hasan takes me in his arms, lifting me to my feet. I let him pull me right to him, relaxing in his strong embrace. He tips my chin up and kisses me. I surrender to him, kissing him back with desperation.
Hasan picks me up, still kissing me, and carries me into the house.
We’re alone now, with the others off flying around the night, on the lookout for danger.
Hasan shuts the door behind him with more force than necessary, and the blow echoes through the house, rattling the pictures hanging on the wall.
“I need to fuck you, Ace,” he growls. One of the best things about getting in bed with Hasan is how direct and animalistic he is. He’s not afraid to tell me exactly what he wants. He’s even less afraid to just do it. I’m his for the taking, and fuck, I love it.
With me still in his arms, he crosses through the house, going to the kitchen. He lifts me up, placing me on the kitchen counter. I wrap my arms around his neck, widening my legs and welcoming him in between. He steps forward, lips on mine once again.
“Ace,” he growls, taking his lips from mine.
He puts them on my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin.
I toss my head back and let my hands slide down his broad shoulders and over his muscular chest, feeling every ridge of muscle and every line of scar covering his skin.
A warrior through and through, the battle scars left on this beast of a man prove how lethal he is, reminding me how intense things are about to get.