Dark Magic, page 9
part #3 of Hunted Shifters Legacy Series
A few seconds later, she realized it wasn’t just murmuring. The grass crackled and moved as they frantically moved around, and clothes went flying in the air. Then the woman knelt, and the man threw his head back in deep, grunted satisfaction.
Leila raised a brow at the man’s groan, which couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. He groaned some more, then seemed to pull the woman down and flatten her to the ground. Soon, her moans joined his groans, thrusting movements making the grass vibrate around them. Clearly, these people were drunk if they wanted to do it somewhere this like this.
Another noise gathered at the back of her senses: footsteps, hurried, and not quiet, either. In an instant, she was yanking Ovie back—just in time, too, as the tree trunk hid him from a figure passing near the forest…no, two figures. They were laughing incessantly, then shouting in the air.
“Oi! You two should get a room!”
More laughing, but they were actually giggles as the two seemed to find the fucking couple hilarious. They ran in that direction, seemingly pushing grass aside in their attempt to get closer. The man cursed when a few long blades whacked him back, and the woman went into a giggling fit as she seemed to find it hilarious.
Leila rolled her eyes, then shot Ovie a look as if to say, Are we really gonna keep watching this? But he was already looking at her—and no, it wasn’t embarrassment or disapproval glinting in his eyes, but something else.
An idea.
The idea bubbled inside her a few seconds later, and her whole mood lifted. Then, as if they were of like minds, she and Ovie were already backing away from the edge of the forest and retracing their steps, only this time their eyes were fixed on the road the entire time.
A few minutes later, they found it: two cars parked messily at the side of the road, just touching the grass. She easily identified their type and went for the white one, which she was drawn to. The warning growl from Ovie had her glancing back, then sighing.
“Fine. The black, cheaper one it is.”
She hopped in the driver’s seat, then waited for him to get in. Leila floored it, reversing fast and racing the car through the empty roads and back to the suburbs they’d come from…then, the city, where she took a different route. The drive was smooth enough, with the vibrating energy inside her lending to her focus and strength…until that energy grew erratic, and the vibrating turned to shaking. She tried to steady her hands on the steering wheel, tried to keep her driving straight.
But Ovie was Ovie, and he wasn’t an expert for nothing.
“Let me take over.”
Stubbornly, her hands tightened on the wheel.
“I can do this.”
“Let me take over, or I’m calling Edmund right now.”
The threat was as effective as a splash of cold water thrown on her face, and she found herself glaring at him. Then she reluctantly moved, twisting her body to let him shimmy from below. Her foot let go of the accelerator as his foot nudged there, and she lifted her butt.
Something caught on the sole of her foot, and she slipped. Her butt landed on his lap, the slapping sound so firm that she blinked. Cheeks heating, Leila looked down.
“Oh, for the love of God,” she exclaimed, eyeing the used condom in horror. “Are they children or what?”
“They’re teenagers,” he replied easily. A hand settled over her stomach, gentle but firm. “Easy there, tiger. We’re the ones at fault here for stealing their car.”
“I’m not a tiger,” she muttered but didn’t contest the rest of his words. His hand started rubbing circling motions over the spot it was resting on, and now her belly attempted to jump at the soothing gesture. She willed herself to remain still.
“You’re acting like a very offended cat right now,” he mused.
She wanted to sink into him—sink into the warmth he was offering, press against the hand moving against her. She wanted to lay her head on his broad shoulder and seek the comfort he was freely giving…then, to adjust her body until it was aligned with his, and she could lay there, too. She was painfully aware of his hard thighs, flexing and moving as his feet navigated the pedals below.
Correction: his hard, naked thighs, right below her semi-naked butt.
She was painfully aware of his hard everything, and it was making her body tighten and simmer with light tingles of electricity.
Drunk on magic, her mind seemed to tell her. The thought alone was enough to send her lifting her body once more. This time, she was successful, plopping herself on the passenger seat. Everything in her lamented the loss of the warmth, not liking the cold of the leather.
Ovie turned a corner, and the movement caused her stomach to lurch.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Somewhere safe. It’s too late to travel to New York right now, and too dangerous. We’ll do that in the morning.”
“Something’s wrong with me,” she blurted out.
“What do you mean?” Alarm tinged his voice.
“I don’t know. Something’s happening inside me. I think it’s the magic. Remnants. My body isn’t absorbing it fast enough, and it’s scattering everywhere and making me…dizzy.”
That dizziness settled over her like a blanket—not a comforting one, but a mocking one. It tried to choke her enough that she scratched at her throat, and Ovie yanking one hand back made her realize her claws were starting to come out. Horror had her swallowing, then taking deep, calming inhales of air as she tried to regulate whatever she was feeling.
It worked, somewhat. The magic slithered endlessly before seeming to settle over her insides, then digging into her organs. It was a foreign feeling, but she gritted her teeth and rode it out. After a while, Leila scrambled to the back of the car with a muttered apology.
“Gonna rest. Just five minutes.”
“Leila?”
“Just five minutes,” she repeated.
The magic disappeared, leaving her empty.
She passed out immediately.
Chapter 12
The coffee machine beeped, indicating the grounds had been brewed—not that it had to because he could already smell the addictive scent from this distance. Ovie strode towards it with an empty cup in hand, pouring to the brim and adding a bit of cream into the mix. He would’ve added some whiskey, too, but he was out of stock and didn’t have the luxury of running out to get some.
He stood in the tiny, makeshift kitchen, sipping the hot liquid and reflecting on the day. Actually, it was still around three in the morning, but he’d woken up after a bad dream and couldn’t go back to sleep again, not when his mind was a mess of muddled thoughts.
Not when there was still so much trouble to sort out.
When the mug was emptied, he went for another fill. The buzz eventually hit his brain, and he wandered to the living room area, which was basically made up of a couch and some floor space. He pushed the couch aside and used the floor space, stretching for a few minutes before bringing down his makeshift punching bag. He punched his way into a good sweat, letting the minutes pass and his mind keep wandering. A few decisions settled down—none of which he was fully comfortable with, but each one probably for the best.
He needed to find out what Leila was up to next.
The clan needed to find out more about the hunters and their technology for attack countermeasures.
He wasn’t going to tell Edmund about Leila’s latest venture. At least, not yet.
After finishing his workout, Ovie took a peek inside the bedroom, separated from the other areas only by a divider. Leila was snoring softly under the blanket, but the sound was so feminine that she made it seem elegant. He shook his head, then went to the shower and took his time scrubbing the dirt that he hadn’t gotten to scrub last night, considering how tired he’d been. Clean and fresh, he stepped out and let the steam rise.
He found Leila leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a mug of coffee. Her eyes were bleary, and her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. Her neck was arched gracefully to one side, and his dress shirt was hanging off one shoulder, showing off her smooth, almost glowing skin…
She became instantly alert the moment she noticed his presence, her black eyes darting to study him from head to toe. It was a clinical assessment, but…
Something passed between them when her gaze met his. Probably hatred, especially coming from her. He dismissed it, refusing to tighten his towel around his waist. But he did turn around and presented her with his back, wondering why the hell he didn’t just dress in the bathroom. Too late to go back now.
“Good morning,” she greeted softly. A first for her.
Cautiously, he nodded his head. “Good morning. Don’t look.”
“I’ve seen plenty of that before.”
Well.
That was a wake-up call. With a frown, Ovie let the towel drop to the floor and began to put on his clothes: briefs, pants, and a plain gray shirt, because he didn’t bring anything else. When he turned back to face her, he found her eyes fixed on the kitchen counter, but her cheeks very red. She was gripping the mug hard as if her life depended on it.
“Is everything okay?” he asked casually.
“Of course,” she replied quickly. The next sip made her cough, and his mouth quirked when he realized she’d sipped too fast and probably burned her tongue.
Another realization: that she wasn’t as immune as she wanted to portray.
“Is the coffee to your liking?”
“It’s splendid,” she said, then looked around. A deep struggle seemed to finish inside her, and she swallowed a gulp. “Thanks for last night.”
“No problem.”
“What is this place?”
“Basically a resting place, in case I can’t make it to the pocket on time.”
At that, Leila threw him a confused look. “But we book hotels for that. Get identities to mask our true ones.”
“Yes, and it’s all so impersonal. This place has everything I need, and it’s hidden underground like Kit’s old home. I’m more comfortable sleeping down here than in a strange hotel.”
“So you have underground bunks like this all over the states?” she asked incredulously.
“I wish. No, just here. California’s too saturated with supernaturals to stay above safely.”
“Hmm.” She kept sipping her mug, gazing around. Her gaze landed on the shelf he had beside the bathroom, which had a couple of items lying around. “That’s the baseball cap you were obsessed with when you were a teenager.”
Surprised, he looked at the blue cap, then at her. “You remember that?”
Leila smirked and tapped at the side of her forehead. “Good memory. Plus, you freaked on anyone who tried to take it away from you—which Mal and St. Charles tried to, bullies that they were.”
The mention of Malcolm seemed to make her sad, but she recovered quickly and kept studying the shelf. Finally, she pushed herself off the kitchen counter and walked over, leaving the mug behind and reaching out to touch a book.
“The first book you bought,” she declared softly. “You said you hated reading but wanted to be an expert investing. Somehow, your young self seemed to decide that reading about financial investments would be a good place to start. Did you actually get to finish it?”
“No.”
At that, she smiled, and the action just seemed to light her face up. The sight was so beautiful that he could only stare. He was used to sultry Leila, used to her sensual smiles that were deliberate and bold.
He wasn’t used to this sunshine smile, and he found it better than her practiced ones.
“This is from that mission in Europe, where you pretended to be a klutz and ended up breaking the boutique’s most precious vase. Did you put this back together?”
“Yes.”
“And this, this is from Morocco. When you stole this sash from a prince and had him throwing a fit.”
“You stole it from him,” he pointed out. “Then you placed it in my bag, and I didn’t bother returning it.”
“Hmm. Trinket from Washington, your first mission outside of New York. And this is from my brother when he…” She swallowed, losing some of her composure. “This was the snow glove you gave him. Eli loved red so much, and you gave him a red pair.”
She smiled again, tinged with so much sadness that he wanted to stride over and pick her up: to hug her, to hold her, to sit her on his lap like last night, where he’d felt comfort like he never had before. He wanted to comfort her so badly that it vibrated in his bones—and that rattled him enough to take a deep gulp of air before letting it go to ease himself.
“Yeah,” he said instead, staying where he was. “Eli loved red. You’re good at this.”
She fingered the tiny red glove once, and he felt her pain in the gesture. Then she put it down.
“Just items. It’s why I can spot things easily—at least, when I’m not distracted. But with memories with people…” Leila shrugged. “I can barely remember Eli, or the cook who betrayed us, or Killian. I should remember Killian since he started the madness. I can remember my father being a nice but formidable man, but that’s it.”
Ovie could remember Killian well: the man who’d tried to expose their clan to the world, bringing a seemingly innocent cook into their clan who ended up betraying them. That had resulted in the deaths, and that had seen Edmund refusing to accept any new clan member unless their trust was unconditional.
In Celine’s and Jack’s cases, that was their unconditional love for their clan member mates, whom they would never betray. In Max’s case, that was his undying loyalty to Celine.
In Jameson’s, his growing bond with Max and Sidney.
“But your brother remembers everything,” he finally said. “Doesn’t he?”
“He does, except he’d probably rather die than admit it. He’d also rather die than share the burden with anyone.”
“He’s good at hiding it, then.”
“He is,” she agreed. “We had a loss, and we both found ways to move on. Maybe mine was blocking it out of my thoughts. It was hard for everyone to lose my father and my brother.” There was heavy silence. “It would be hard for everyone to lose Mal, too.”
“Leila—”
“Just hear me out. I’ll practice my magic, and I promise to find ways to control it better.”
“Leila—”
“What you witnessed last night was a vulnerability, a powerful aftereffect. I swear I’m going to work on that, too.”
“Leila—”
“I really will—”
“Leila,” he cut in firmly. “For the love of God, let me actually say yes.”
“Yes?” she echoed in amazement.
“Yes. You can practice.” A pause, as he took her bright smile in. “And I know just the place for it.”
* * *
The place in question was an empty room just at the other side of the underground bunk, where he’d been planning to put a proper bed but never got around to it. After they reported back to the mansion about the hunter incident and were free to go, they took Leila’s potions and paraphernalia and returned to California, where she placed everything on the lower shelf and locked herself in the empty room. She stayed there for hours, knocking a pattern on the door every hour to signal that she was fine.
Sometimes she came out when she was hungry or needed a shower—and those times, Leila talked. She talked about her goals, about her observations, about the obstacles she encountered. She complained about the lack of progress, complained about him using all the hot water in the mornings and the lack of wine in his pantry stocked with military-type food packets.
He returned her barbs until they settled into this brand of coziness: ribbing each other, finding ways to ease the boredom of being stuck in a small space. Cabin fever, basically. Leila got comfortable enough to wear loose shirts around him, and he got comfortable enough to just be in his sweatpants and train as much as he could with his boxing equipment. It became a pattern, and it amazed him how he never realized she was good at winging it. How she was good with her discipline, too, refusing to go up and party even with her obvious restlessness.
How she was fucking gorgeous when she woke up, fresh from any makeup and still sleepy-eyed.
The easy camaraderie was mixed with some unnamed tension, avoided mutually as they tiptoed around each other at times. That lasted for three weeks, after which Ovie got a call from Kit that he had a package.
Package meant a physical message, and he traveled back to Brooklyn where their main, physical mailbox was located. Inside, he found details of a target: the same man from the charity event, whom he was tasked to watch out for in San Francisco, where the clan’s pocket was suspected to be located.
What was Edmund up to?
Ovie got to his task, scouting the area and settling on a location that hid him from sight but gave him the perfect view of the buildings lined along a certain street. There, he went undercover for four days, watching the passings and goings of people and trying to see if Justin Elosk was in disguise, too. But the man never appeared, not even at night, and Martina Melon wasn’t in sight, either. Another location was sent to him, and he moved there for another three nights. Still, no results yielded, he decided to finally report to Edmund that it was a lost cause for now.
When no insistence came from the boss, Ovie pulled back, removed his disguise, and booked it out of there, stopping for some cheeseburgers. Then, some wine. Then, more food, gourmet this time. He realized he was buying for two, but tried not to read too much into the gesture.
He’d have bought the damn expensive wine for anyone.
When he returned to the underground bunk, it was to find the room door open and bright sparks blazing every now and then. Ovie was running before he knew it, stopping short just at the doorway and staring as Leila lifted her hands in the air. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to be meditating, but not for long. When she opened her eyes, they sparkled so brightly, filled to the brim with an energy that seemed to pull him inside the room.
