Chapter Nine—Trusting #3
Baylor raised an eyebrow. “Who will be with her? Ramsey?” It was about time to teach the Templar a lesson, even if he couldn’t kill him.
She shook her head. “No. Michael. Our warlock.”
“Ah.” Baylor saw the red heat of passion fire in her aura. This was the man she was besotted with. The one he could use to bend her to his will if she didn’t serve him well. Perhaps he should give her a little incentive.
“Do you suppose you could distract him? We’d only need an hour or so.”
She smiled and curled strands of long hair around a finger and let her hand brush across her breast as she lowered it. “I think so.”
“Good,” he replied and nodded to Caldwell. “You can go. Oh, yes, one more thing. Tell the grunts not to kill the bitch. Bring her to me.”
As they turned to the door, Baylor caught Morgan’s hand. “If you wouldn’t mind keeping an old man company for a little while?”
Her smile was totally feline. “You’re not old.”
“Perhaps you could make me feel young again,” he said and grinned when Caldwell slammed the door.
****
Michael was sitting in his car and waiting for her when she got home.
“I brought dinner,” he said as he joined her by the front door holding a bag of Chinese carry-out.
“Smells great,” Sara said as she let them in, “but you didn’t need to do that.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You were going to make dinner? Since when did you learn to cook?”
“I know how to cook,” she said as she set out plates. “I prefer not to. Anyway, when did we arrange for dinner? You were pretty angry with me this morning.”
“I’m sorry about that.” He actually looked contrite, which was a trait Sara had never seen him exhibit. “But since I’m spending the night, I needed some nourishment.”
She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. “You’re spending the night?”
He grinned and handed her chopsticks. “Yep. Backpack’s in the car.”
“Michael, we’ve had this conversation before. I’m not sleeping with you. Women follow you as though you were the Pied Piper. All I’d be is another conquest. Let’s stay friends.”
The grin faded and the humor left his dark eyes to be replaced with the predatory look of the warlock. “For the record, you wouldn’t be ‘another conquest.’ But if I truly meant to seduce you, sweetheart, I wouldn’t have brought food with MSG in it. Makes me…uh…sleepy, you might say.”
She frowned. “Then why…?” Suddenly her eyes widened. “You think I need protection, don’t you?”
“I know you do,” he said and ignored her look of exasperation. “Whoever paid you a visit last night may come back. I’m surprised Ramsey didn’t think of it.”
“Stop suspecting him, Michael. We had a talk today.” She hoped she wasn’t blushing, remembering how that talk had ended in a mind-blowing kiss that would have put any Frenchman to shame.
“And,” she added logically, “if he had been the visitor, the easiest way to get me alone is to come home with me under the guise of protecting me.” For a moment, she felt an adrenaline rush as she thought of Lucas’ comments on Baylor’s possible control of the warlock.
Goddess, she’d known Michael for ten years—surely she would have noticed some change in his behavior if Baylor had started manipulating him.
She had to stop this paranoid way of thinking.
Michael was watching her with the intensity he showed only during rituals. Then she felt him nudge at her mind. She brought her shield up. Too late.
His head jerked back in surprise. “You suspect me?”
“I don’t know. I’m so confused,” Sara answered. “You accuse Lucas of wanting sole power, he accuses you of being controlled by Baylor—”
Michael took her hand. “The third eye,” he said as he pressed her fingers to his forehead. “I’m open. Enter and see for yourself who controls me.”
Sara closed her eyes and concentrated, her senses slowly fading until there was only intuitive sight.
Michael’s aura was pale gold, edged in white.
No traces of darkness there, nor did she detect anything ominous surrounding him.
His thought forms flowed smoothly in swirls of blue and green, intermingled with light corals.
One bright orange form suddenly flared up and was quickly extinguished, but she recognized it as the lustful thought it was.
Definitely Michael’s, not interference from another source.
She went deeper. Underneath the thought forms, in the very essence of his mind, no angry browns or burgundies lurked, only the steady pulsating of the blood-red Kundalini. His own spirit.
She broke the contact. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “I wanted you to be sure.” He gathered the plates and took them to the sink. “You did catch the one that was definitely me?”
Sara packed up the containers to avoid the sensual look he was sending her, the heat of which would have nearly any other woman unbuttoning her blouse.
“You’re still sleeping on the couch,” she said.
****
Lucas parked his rental beside Sara’s Mustang the next morning and checked to make sure the Shield was fully covered in the back seat. He had meant to give it to her yesterday, but her friend, Morgan, had shown up unexpectedly and Sara had left to attend to some business.
The woman was supposed to be part of the Circle, but he didn’t trust her.
He knew her type. She had a cold, calculating beauty that used men to her own ends.
Even as she brazenly flirted with an obviously besotted Caldwell—he should give her credit for that, he supposed, since it took the guy’s mind off Sara—she continued to give him hot, heated looks while licking her lips and then pouting when he pretended to misunderstand.
With the long red hair and alabaster skin, she reminded him of Arthur’s sister.
And that was one witch everyone gave a wide berth.
Lucas knocked on Sara’s apartment door. He’d have brought the Shield over last night, but Smith had kept him and Caldwell bent over some medieval artifacts that he’d brought up from the vault until well past midnight.
By then, it was too late to go to her. He didn’t want her panicking and shooting through the door.
But he had sat in his car across the street and watched the apartment the rest of the night just in case.
Then he’d gone back to Smith’s for a quick shower and shave.
“Good morning, lass,” he said as she opened the door.
“Lucas! What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he answered. “Mind if I come in?”
She seemed to hesitate and be uneasy, but then she stepped aside and swung the door wider. “Sure.”
He felt her body heat as he brushed past her and stepped inside. The soft scent of roses seemed to float from her hair and he wanted to fist his hands through the silky strands and tilt her head back to give him access to her full mouth.
“I’m about to put some pastries in the toaster,” she said. “Care for one?”
“No, thanks. Coffee, though, if you have it.” He followed her back to the kitchen, fascinated with the way the silk kimono slid across her tight bottom as her hips swayed.
If he could only trust the beast not to rear its head and use its fangs, he’d reach around and pull the delicate sash that held the thing together.
He’d bet a Roman coin that she was naked beneath it.
Just the thought of cupping her breasts and pressing her back against him made him hard instantly.
“You’re out of toothpaste,” Michael said as he came through the doorway and then stopped.
Lucas turned. The warlock was wearing jeans and no shirt or shoes. The guy had no fat on him and a lot more muscle than was obvious when he wore loose shirts. Suddenly the idea of Sara’s being nude under the robe lost its appeal.
Michael met his look levelly and then allowed the corner of his mouth to quirk up as he moved past Lucas and pushed the handle up on the smoking toaster.
“Burning pastries takes your cooking expertise to a whole new level,” he said teasingly to Sara as he dumped them and put in two fresh ones.