Chapter Five
Onyx turned off the water, happy to finally be clean. It had taken three washings of her hair until she was satisfied she’d removed all the smell. Her skin was pink from scrubbing.
Resting her hands against the white tiles, she lowered her head. God, she was tired. But there was no rest for her any time soon. It was a miracle Dagen had allowed her to get cleaned up before demanding her translation of the alchemist’s journal. He likely wanted her out of the way while he examined it. It was also a gamble on her part. He could choose to leave while she was otherwise occupied. Better to know if he was going to bail on her. If he took the journal, she had her copy tucked away.
The one thing he wouldn’t do was turn her in to Solange. Oh, he’d use her if it would help him attain his goal. She wasn’t naive enough to believe otherwise. But he would do nothing that would give their enemy an advantage. Worst case scenario, she’d be clean before she set out on her own again.
She wished she could read his mind. He’d gone quiet after their kiss. Or maybe it was her revelation about his origin that had done it. Solange had much to answer for.
Pushing upright, she stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel she’d left hanging on the convenient hook just outside. She was drying her skin when the hair on the back of her neck rose. Something was different.
She scanned the room, seeing no threat, and then her gaze hit the floor. The empty floor. The floor where she’d left her dirty clothes. The bastard had taken her clothes.
“Impossible,” she whispered, securing the towel around her. The small spell she’d placed on the lock should have prevented such a thing, or at least alerted her to an intruder. Magic clung to the door. Everything was as it should be.
“How is this possible?” At least the glass in the shower was opaque. He hadn’t seen her naked. Her nipples perked up, but she viewed that as an uncontrollable side effect of their connection, not because she wished he had not only seen her naked but joined her. The shower was more than big enough for— “Stop it,” she admonished herself. “Seeing you naked wasn’t his purpose.” No, it had been to search her clothes for weapons and trackers. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t warned her.
She hadn’t even considered that when she’d put the extra protection in place. That had been strictly for privacy.
Not only had her magic failed, so had her instincts. The lone wolf had skills, but even she hadn’t realized he was this good. Her awareness of her surroundings was honed to a fine edge. It should have been impossible for him to slip in and out of the room without her knowing.
Did she subconsciously trust him enough to let down her guard? That was scary. While they were joined in a common cause, they didn’t have a real relationship. “You’re tired, that’s all it is.” The lie did little to ease the knot in her belly. She’d woken out of a dead sleep many times in the past when anyone came near her. Exhaustion was no excuse.
When she began to sway, she leaned against the vanity. Fearful her power was somehow diminishing, she closed her eyes and searched inside herself. She typically allowed only a sliver of it to be active, enough to perform small acts—like securing the door. The bulk of it, she kept hidden, locked in a vault she’d created in her solar plexus. The mental and mystical walls had been constructed from years of trial and error and relentless practice until not even the slightest hint of energy seeped out.
At first, it had been for her safety. If Solange had realized how strong Onyx was, she likely would never have made it out of childhood. The other mage had always believed her weak, something Onyx encouraged. Now she hid it because it was advantageous. It served her purpose to allow her enemies to think she was deficient, less than. It also kept her “signature” as a mage muted, making her hard to track. Power always left a trail.
None of that explained what had happened. Dagen was damn good at sneaking around, but he should have gotten one hell of a shock when he’d turned the doorknob. Instead, she was the one left reeling.
“How, damn it?” She straightened as the answer became crystal clear. “Blood.” She carried a drop of his blood. Her magic “recognized” him, for lack of a better word. Saw him as no threat. She snorted and shook her head. There had to be a way to fix that, otherwise she was screwed.
Deciding to put off their confrontation a bit longer, she dug through the drawers in the vanity, coming up with a hair dryer and comb. When she was done, she checked her appearance in the large mirror. Her skin was pale, but her eyes were steady. Sometimes, appearances were all you had. “Fake it ’til you make it.” When she’d put away the borrowed items, nothing was left for her to do. Her knapsack, change of clothes, hairbrush, and small makeup kit were in the bedroom. Hopefully. If he’d taken it, she’d raid the closet and pray there were spare clothes for emergencies. This was a safe house, after all.
She hesitated at the door and placed her hand on the knob. Centering herself, she reversed the spell and drew back the energy. It was habit to remove any sign of her magic, if possible. And there was no point of leaving it there if it wouldn’t keep Dagen out.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and strode confidently into the bedroom. It was empty, but her bag was sitting on the bench at the end of the bed. She leaped toward it and dug out her clean clothes, trying not to remember how Dagen’s fingers had rubbed the fabric of her panties as she pulled them on. It might only have been jeans, a bra and pullover, socks and shoes, but it was as good as armor. It gave her confidence she desperately needed.
Since he hadn’t come looking for her, she took the time to braid her hair, apply light makeup, and put on her jewelry. If her clothing was armor, this was her shield. Nothing was missing, other than her dirty clothes, and that could be replaced. It surprised her to find the journal. She’d assumed he’d keep it with him. If it was an olive branch, she wasn’t impressed.
She examined the bag and contents, checking for trackers, but found nothing. Once it was all repacked, she slung the bag over her shoulder. She’d learned to always be ready to move at a moment’s notice. It had saved her life more than once.
Keeping her steps light, she walked down the short hallway. Dagen was seated at the table, phone in hand. Whatever he was reading had his attention.
“There’s coffee if you want some.” Without looking up, he canted his head toward the kitchen area.
Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she helped herself, adding two lumps of sugar, needing the extra boost. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be late.
“Going somewhere?” He indicated her knapsack as he set his phone down.
“I prefer to be prepared.” She dumped it on the table and took a seat. Setting the mug down on the table, she went on the offensive. “You stole my clothes.”
…
Outwardly, Onyx appeared calm, but she was pissed. The slightest hint of color in her cheeks and the tick of the pulse in her neck were dead giveaways. To him, anyway.
“They’re in the washer.” She frowned, taken off guard. Did she think he tossed them?
“You searched them?” She pointed an accusing finger at him.
“I warned you I would.” Mistrust was too ingrained for him not to.
“You didn’t have to come into the bathroom while I was showering.” She spaced each word out, emphasizing her point.
He shrugged, unrepentant. “If you’re worried, I didn’t see anything.” That was true, but his imagination had gone into overdrive. The sound of the water running, the sight of her discarded clothes, and the scent of soap mingled with her sighs as she washed were indelibly imprinted on his brain. All he’d wanted to do was join her.
His cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans, forcing him to swallow a growl.
“If I’m worried? If I’m worried?” She leaned forward and glared at him. “That was an invasion of privacy.”
“You used magic to try to keep me out.” It hadn’t surprised him. What had was the potency of it and his ability to bypass it.
“That’s beside the point.”
He thought about leaning forward and nipping at her finger. It would be interesting to see if she’d bite back. “You wanted to keep me out. It was natural to believe you did it because you had something to hide.”
“It’s called privacy.”
He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from grinning. He was enjoying this far more than he should. It had been a long time since he’d had company of any kind, especially someone who knew exactly what he was. It was liberating not to have to hide any part of himself.
It occurred to him that she was likely experiencing something similar.
“Let’s call it a draw.” He leaned back, resting his hands on his stomach. “You used magic and I breached your privacy. I’m curious about how I was able to do it.” The hum of magic had been undeniable. He’d braced, expecting some kind of reaction when he touched the handle. All he’d gotten was the slightest tingle. It had felt like her. It was impossible to explain. The energy had been feminine and familiar.
Mimicking his pose, she leaned back and kicked her legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “I’m curious about the same thing. I have a theory.”
Bantering with her was fun. They should be working on the journal, mapping out their next move, but he was reluctant to break the mood.
“I’m all ears.” And he was. She couldn’t be happy that her spell hadn’t worked the way she intended. It made him consider how effective she was as a mage. She’d need a lot of firepower to go up against Solange. The way he saw it? That was her task. His was dealing with Charles and any other werewolves who came their way.
“Blood.” She appeared satisfied, like the cat that’d swallowed the canary.
He sat forward, tension gripping his shoulders. “Are you saying I have magic inside me?” If she’d cast some sort of hex on him, he’d find a way to break it.
“What? No!” She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “Why would you think that?” The corners of her mouth tightened. “I see. You think I did something to you. Guess what? It’s the other way around.” She pointed a thumb at her chest. “The drop of your blood in me interfered with the spell. Since you’re a part of me—”
“It equated me with you.” Now that was fascinating. There had to be a way he could use that to his advantage. It would certainly be beneficial in any of their dealings.
“Exactly. Have to find a way to counteract that,” she muttered.
“Don’t rush on my account. In fact…” His nimble mind began unraveling the possibilities.
She gripped her mug tight. “In fact what? What are you thinking?”
It was a stretch, but it might be something they could work with. “If Solange has any of my blood left.” And it made him furious to imagine her gaining a sample. “Maybe I can tap into it and any protective warding she might have around her home.”
Onyx went unnaturally still. “You know where she is?”
He’d made it his life’s mission to track down every scrap of information about her and Charles. “I have a list of properties. There are several they frequent more than others.”
“Damn, you’re not just good, you’re scary good.”
Inside him, his wolf preened and trotted around like he was king of the world. Dagen sat a little straighter before he realized what he was doing and slumped back in his chair. “It’s what I do. I do have a question. Werewolves disintegrate swiftly at death, as does our blood.” The same genetic makeup that gave their species double the lifespan of humans and accelerated healing was the same thing that ensured their bodies rapidly turned to ash after death, leaving nothing to betray their existence. Any spilled blood was usually gone within hours. “It should’ve been impossible for her to get a sample.”
Onyx fiddled with one of the jeweled cuffs on her wrist and pulled out a short, sharp pin. He raised a brow, impressed by the ingenuity. He’d thought it part of the design.
“It’s a decent lockpick and serves as a weapon when necessary.” He eyed her jewelry more closely, wondering what other surprises he might have missed. She stabbed one end into the pad of her thumb before returning the pin to its place. A bead of blood swelled. “It’s all about magic.”
As he watched, the tiny droplet lifted into the air. “If she can get a sample before it vanishes, she can preserve it. That’s the bad news. The good news is it does lose potency over time. She used most of it in her quest to find a weakness for the lone wolves. When that failed, she created weapons to weaken them.”
“You and the other women.” As plans went, it was brilliant. Solange wasn’t an enemy to underestimate.
“Yes.” She caught the droplet in her hand and squeezed tight. When she opened it again, it had vanished. “She studied astrological charts and determined the best times for each wolf’s mate to be born. Then she found the right pregnant women.” A shudder went through her entire body. When she looked at him, her eyes were bleak. “I don’t know how she did it and I don’t want to. Imposing her will on others, tampering with life itself, that’s dark magic. Maybe she influenced conception. Maybe it was at the birth of the child. All I know is she accomplished her goal.”
“What happened to your parents?” He’d never considered the other innocent parties involved—people unaware the paranormal world existed around them.
“I don’t have any.” Like a door slamming shut, she put an end to the subject. All that did was make him more curious about her early years. He hadn’t been able to trace her back that far. It was as though she appeared out of thin air at the age of fifteen.
“Everyone has parents.” It wasn’t smart to push, but she was hiding something. He sensed it. His wolf sensed it. What secret about her childhood would cause her to evade a simple question and emotionally shut down?
“They’re not important.” A muscle in her jaw worked. The bleakness in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms and comfort her while swearing to protect her from all future hurts. He fisted his hands tighter to keep from giving in to the primal urge.
Onyx was the most composed and independent woman he’d ever come into contact with, but there was a sense of vitality beneath the facade that nothing could smother—until now. Discovering her parents’ identity rocketed to the top of his to-do list. Information was power. He wasn’t going into any situation unprepared.
Deciding to let it go, he gave her a curt nod. “Fine. What can you tell me about the alchemist’s journal?” There was no mistaking the easing of tension around her mouth and the slight lowering of her shoulders.
His wolf growled. Whatever part her parents played or didn’t play in her life, the memories weren’t good ones.
She reached into her knapsack and pulled out the slightly battered leather notebook. It appeared ordinary but was anything but. From deciphering the one he’d taken, he understood how complicated the code was. And the code in this one was a whole other level.
“Why don’t I feel anything from it? The one I took had a distinct echo of magic.”
She drew some complicated signs in the air. Out of nowhere, a drop of blood fell onto the leather. Instinctively, he knew it was hers, the droplet that had disappeared earlier.
Like a dam breaking, the air around it shimmered and snapped before it subsided into a steady vibration he sensed more than felt.“You bespelled it.”
“To protect it. You have to understand. Like a spider spinning a web, Solange has waited patiently and planned for decades.” She ran her fingertips over the cover of the book, as if soaking up its very essence. “I believe her window of opportunity is running out. She would level the world to get her hands on this.”
The fine hairs on his body stood on end. Inside him, his wolf went on full alert. “What the fuck is in it?”