Dark Magic, page 11
part #3 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
“That’s a good pint. I’m amazed you like it, it’s an acquired taste for most people.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I easily adjust to situations.” She took another sip, her delight showing more clearly. “What’s a bad pint?”
“One that’s not poured properly. Believe it or not, it depends on how it’s poured out.”
“I don’t believe it. Show me.”
The words made him smile, and they had him doing exactly that. Her nose wrinkled when she tried the bad pint, right before she finally, reluctantly agreed with him. Ovie grinned, stifling the gloat as they returned to their side booth and were served the rest of his order. He watched her eat without pause, seeming to trust his taste now as she made no complaints.
As her body kept vibrating under her sweater, like she couldn’t control it. She probably couldn’t.
The early evening moved on, and people began to trickle in the pub. Leila’s shoulders tensed, but soon she realized that no one was paying her attention as they focused on their food and the large television screen. His least favorite football team was playing against his second favorite football team, and he turned his attention there until she muttered tactics in hushed tones.
Ovie glanced at her. “You know football?”
“The basics.” She shrugged. “I had to study it once to get close to a football player.”
Her head abruptly snapped up, gaze zoning in on something. Her shoulders tensed again.
“What?”
Subtly, she tilted her head in a certain direction. Ovie took a sip of his drink and used that action to turn his head, spotting what she was looking at: a group of redheads in cloaks, vibrating with the same intense energy she was.
“They’ve been using magic,” she said under her breath, barely heard.
“Yeah. They always come here after they do.”
Her body jerked, then grew slack. Leila gaped at him. “What? You know magic-users?”
“I don’t know them personally. I’ve seen them here often. It’s their favorite spot in the city, I suppose.”
“Hmm.”
Something glinted in her eye, which had him shaking his head immediately.
“No. Don’t think ideas.”
“It’s my only shot,” she said, not even bothering to hide what she was planning. “If I could befriend them, try to ask them for help—”
“They won’t help.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“They’re Irish.”
“So?”
“Irish don’t help people with magic unless they’re family. They stay away from clans, stay away from other magic-users. It’s tradition, and they think breaking it would bring a curse to their lives.”
“That’s crazy.”
He eyed her balefully. “As opposed to refusing to teach people because of politics?”
She grimaced when she got his point, then scowled at her remaining pint. “Is there any dessert around here?”
“Shouldn’t you be staying off sugar at this time?”
“No. I should be eating all kinds of food,” she returned firmly. “Come on, now. Impress me with your Irish desserts. The fuller my stomach is, the more I can get rid of this energy inside me.”
There was a dark tone to her voice, carefully held back. With a nod, Ovie hailed a waiter and got to ordering dessert.
* * *
They ate and drank, drank and ate. The hours passed by as they did so, the crowd becoming so decidedly larger that it grew just a bit rowdy inside the pub. But it was the friendly kind of rowdy, and he found himself engaging with a few people about some sports debates and leaving Leila to her observations. Soon, she was no longer observing but mingling—and that mingling involved her climbing on a table and singing off-key with a huge, burly man, celebrating some win she didn’t know.
Okay, time to break it up.
Ovie tugged her down after the second song, then had the amusement of seeing her cheeks grow delightfully pink from her alcohol intake. Somehow, he managed to cajole her into leaving the pub, too, where they stumbled down the streets and walked towards where they parked the car.
“You’re a spoilsport,” she complained, jabbing a finger on his chest. The unconscious force of it had him wincing. “They wanted me to sing a third song.”
“You’re drunk,” he pointed out. “And you sounded atrocious.”
“I sounded lovely.”
“How are you feeling right now?”
“Atrocious,” she joked, then laughed as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Kidding. I feel lovely. Floaty and buzzy and powerful.”
“The magic?”
“Still here, stronger than ever.” She pounded at her chest, then winced, too. “Ow.”
That made him worry, realizing none of the food and alcohol worked on her. Or maybe it worked, but only to a certain degree. He scanned his head for other ideas, hand on her elbow as she crisscrossed her way to their destination.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she called out, grinning at him. Tipsy Leila was the last thing he expected: happy and giggly, a complete turn from her usual cool persona. “You should walk behind me like the queen I am.”
Well, perhaps not that much of a change.
“In your dreams, sweetheart,” he said, smiling a bit. He navigated her towards a quiet street, helping her lean against a building wall when she swayed. She closed her eyes.
“I know. I know what’s going to help me break out of this.”
“What?”
His body jerked at her response.
“Sex. Lots and lots of sex. Come on.”
She tugged at him, but he tugged her back. Easily, he navigated her again until they were in a more hidden corner, away from curious eyes. In this position, his whole body covered hers as she looked up at him.
“I’m not having you going after some random stranger in your state.”
“I didn’t mean a stranger. I meant you.”
Another jerk, this one more like a punch in the gut. Ovie stared, stunned. “What?”
“Fuck me, Oliver,” she pleaded, her voice turning low. Throaty, raspy, brimming with a sensuality that wrapped around his neck. His skin felt it gliding in, and his body tightened in response. “Fuck me here, now. I need this.”
His cock hardened at the needy, whispered plea, throbbing inside his trousers.
He swallowed.
“No. I can’t do that, Leila.”
Hurt filled her eyes, turning them soft. She pushed him off and started walking again, and he sighed deeply and followed her at a safe enough distance. A few minutes later, they were in the car, where he readied the engine and turned to her—
A soft, warm body straddled him, hands on his shoulders as she ground her ass against him. Blood shot down, thickening and electrifying, and it tingled his dick that was already aching for her. She pressed her breasts against his chest, making him stunningly aware that she had no bra on under the sweater.
Immediately, his hands moved to her waist—perhaps a bad decision, as they touched smooth, warm skin when the hem of the sweater hitched up.
“Leila, this is a bad idea—”
“Fuck me,” she pleaded, grinding again. “Fuck me, Ovie, please. Please.”
“Leila—”
“I need you inside me. I need something. Fuck me and kiss me, please—”
He growled once, a warning.
Then Ovie was pulling her head down and crashing his mouth against hers, determined to grant at least one request and get it off the table—to prove that this wasn’t what she needed.
The feel of her soft, warm lips against his was a revelation as he felt the slight hitch in her body when she stilled. Then she was moving her mouth, opening it for him, and whatever control he thought he had was out the window as he tilted her head and angled it deeper. They kissed in a hot, feverish rush, desperately taking each other’s flavors in. In the dimness of his mind, he understood that maybe she didn’t need this, but he did.
And it was bound to be his death.
He kept kissing her anyway, reveling in the little things: the gasp from her throat, the tiny sounds of satisfaction and bewilderment there. Not a moan, but quite close. He rubbed his thumb over her cheek, feeling her open up further and getting lost in the wonder of it.
Desire turned dark and heady, his hands itching to tear her clothes off—to fully get his hands on her and touch parts that would make her moan for real. He wanted to get his hands on those tits and the nipples that seemed to have hardened inside her clothes. Fuck, he wanted to put his mouth there and suck.
He wanted to keep trailing his mouth down, so he could taste every bit of her lushness.
Instead, he defied all that desire and lifted her, amazed at the amount of self-control he still had. In a second, the weight on top of him was off as he transferred Leila to the passenger seat, where she protested before leaning against the headrest. Her breathing was out of control, and so was his.
Silence filled the enclosed space.
“It…worked.”
At the words, his head swiveled sharply in her direction.
“It worked,” she repeated, sounding dumbfounded. She placed her hand over her chest, skimming down her stomach. Then she scrubbed her hand over her face, rapidly draining of energy as she turned unsure eyes on him. “The magic’s settled and fading, and I don’t feel like fainting.”
But she looked tired, drawn-out, and raw, a vulnerability that hit him in the heart this time. After a few seconds, she paled and opened the passenger door, leaning her head out and producing retching sounds. But nothing came out. Flushed, embarrassed, Leila flattened herself against the seat and accepted his mints. He turned off the engine, closing his eyes from the sight and the emotions it evoked.
“I have to help him, Ovie. I can’t live with myself if I don’t do anything.”
Ovie wanted to reach out and pull her to his lap, where it felt like she belonged. He shook the preposterous urge off. An idea formed in mind, connecting to the understanding inside him at her goal here.
To help a friend.
To protect family.
He opened his eyes.
“I have one other option. Hear me out.”
Chapter 15
The plane jerked and swayed, Leila’s body following the movements since she got on the metal contraption a few hours ago: jerky and filled with nerves, aware of every waking moment. Normally, she didn’t mind plane rides, especially when it involved first-class and a flight from state to state. But this was from one damn country to another, unplanned and in coach.
And this was towards a destination she didn’t even want to think about.
It didn’t help that the man beside her was too…huge for his own good, filling up a good amount of their side. And he was too calm about everything.
Another jerk of the plane and she was gritting her teeth. “Is the weather always this bad around here?”
Ovie smirked. “We’re not even close to our destination yet. This is just random turbulence, Leila.”
“Fine. Did you find an alibi that worked on Edmund? Did he have questions?”
“Not that I know of. He’s out of the pocket doing things I know nothing about, but I’m sure you do. He’ll be too busy to ask questions until later, and we’re not needed at the moment. Queens has been very peaceful lately.”
“And then trouble comes calling at the craziest moment,” she muttered, used to the random patterns. She did have an idea where Edmund was: at the source of his funds, most likely, and dictating to Nancy what needed to be done. She hadn’t had any interaction with the woman since escorting her to the mansion, but Leila had seen glimpses of the woman’s intimidation. “Fine. So we’re safe for now.”
“You’re safe for now,” he corrected. “I have nothing to do with this.”
“You’re taking me to your roots,” she pointed out. “To talk to some people you know. To help me with…you know.”
“Yes, yes, I know. To help you with your sex problems.”
She gaped, taking a while to realize he was joking. At the back of their seats, someone choked on a cough, and her eyes widened as she grinned at Ovie. He smiled back, the movement lazy and fitting those sleepy eyes.
Leila wanted to ogle him for a long time because he was so handsome without even being fully aware of it. There was something sexy about that lack of knowledge, as everything he did was unpracticed and meant to be efficient, not sensual.
Not wanting to be a creep, she forced herself to look away and took out a magazine, skimming through the pages. Halfway, she got bored and peered out the window instead, watching as rain fogged up the sky and lightning illuminated it now and then.
They still had a long way to go, and it wasn’t like she could stroll around and find some bar, considering this was a commercial plane. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and rested her head back, deciding to let sleep take the hours away.
She was jerked up in what only seemed like a minute, jarring her sleepy mind to wakefulness. Clouded with fog, she stretched her hands…froze when she realized her head was leaning against something hard and warm.
Ovie’s shoulder.
He didn’t move at her movement, and she wondered if he was asleep. Leila glanced at the window, where the rainstorm below them seemed to have intensified. Her head nearly plunged at one particular plane jerk, making her curse inwardly.
A strong hand reached out, pulling her head easily back in place. He curled that arm under her neck to gently lock her in that position, and he made soothing rubbing motions with his thumb over her jaw. Carefully, he placed his head on top of hers, warm breath stirring her hair in a comforting manner.
It made her want to sink into him. Instead, she quietly inhaled, taking in his scent and making her body tingle in places that hadn’t tingled for anyone this intensely before.
God. She needed to get a grip on herself.
Jump someone else, if possible. Except there was no one she wanted to jump other than one man, and she’d already vowed she wouldn’t go down that path.
Sex was easy for Leila, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be simple with him. The arousal she felt now, even without touching him, was too much, and she’d spontaneously combust if it got any hotter. But she was curious.
Dreadfully curious.
Surreptitiously, her fingers moved, and she made it seem like an unconscious thing. Ovie didn’t stir. So she kept moving them forward, excruciatingly slow until it was close to the armrest. She bypassed that, pausing for a long moment before caressing her fingers to his stomach area.
It jumped, then contracted, making a helpless whimper catch in her throat. She swallowed it in.
He cleared his throat.
“Leila, stop playing. Or…”
She lifted her head, stilling when she found his face close. It would be, since he was resting his head there. She inhaled his scent again and felt her blood stir, the animal inside her cajoling.
“Or what?” she blurted out, whispering it. He stilled, too, gray eyes boring into hers and darkening to a color that made anticipation rise inside her. Intimacy wrapped around them, reminding her of the kiss from last night—the one kiss that blew her mind, turned her on, and gave her dismay when it ended too soon. “Or what, Oliver?”
His gaze strayed down to her mouth, flaring. Then his warmth was gone, and she blinked when she realized he was moving his body away.
“We have a few hours left, then we’re landing. Let’s prepare ourselves.”
She glanced at her watch and made a sound when she realized she hadn’t just had a nap, but actually slept through most of the flight. Then his words sank in.
“What exactly are we preparing for?”
“Just clean up, eat, and we’re heading to the nearest priest.”
Alarm coursed through her. “Priest? What? Why?”
“To get married.”
Shock shot inside her at the words and her spine straightened as she gawked at him. “Married? Why?”
He whispered the response in her ear, but it only shocked her further.
“Because we’re getting my relatives to help you with magic. And they won’t do it unless you’re family.”
* * *
It was the most preposterous idea in the world—but it was also the most rational, considering there was no other way to bypass the tradition of the Irish, which they all seemed to swear by. Yet that wasn’t the biggest shocker of it all, but the other thing: that Ovie had family, and that she hadn’t known anything about it.
At all.
“Edmund knows.”
At that, she gave him an accusing look. He returned it with a bland one. “I can’t believe…”
“We weren’t close, and it’s not like I communicated with them after.”
“After?”
Ovie sighed. “It’s really simple. My parents died when I was a kid, and I was raised partially by my aunts. Then I got bitten by a bear shifter, and I became too wild and uncontrollable to stay with them anymore. Edward took me in and gave me a home, and he advised me it would be best to cut ties with the Irish people and my roots. They don’t understand the shifter world, and it’s for the clan’s protection. Theirs, too.”
The mention of her father had her chest tightening, further cementing the realization that he’d been a good man.
“Then how are you sure they’re going to welcome you with open arms?”
“I’m family,” he declared as if that explained it. “They’ll welcome me, and they’ll welcome you. But we have to tread carefully. We can’t just be demanding things from them. Only one of my aunts practices…at least, she did when I was a kid. I don’t know if it’s been passed on. Some families don’t want the trouble and just want to lead peaceful lives. The very traditional ones only pass it on in their lands, or only to one from a generation.”
“Got it. I won’t get my hopes up.” Leila studied him. “And this marriage license?”
“We stand in front of a priest, and he’ll say the vows and sign the papers. We get it annulled once you get what you need. It’s simple.”
To her astonishment, it was simple: really just standing in front of a priest and signing papers. A few hours later, they were married in Galway and heading to an underground area, where she entered another underground ring and saw a fairly decent crowd. This one was louder than the one back in New York, with the accent heavier than Ovie’s.
