Devil Hath Come (an FBI/Romance Thriller ~book 7) (48 page)

BOOK: Devil Hath Come (an FBI/Romance Thriller ~book 7)
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She stood
as Rex entered the room. The dog took one look at the bed and jumped up on top of it.

“Uh, he’s found a spot. We’ll have company
from now on,” Cyra laughed.

Chris didn't care. If
she loved the dog, he loved him too. “The bed is big enough, so why not?”

“Don’t keep me waiting long,” she purred, walking from the room.

Chris knew that she had nothing to worry about. Whenever she called, he would certainly come running.

 

 

 

In the kitchen, she located the wine but couldn’t find the glasses, until she glanced up. Hanging above the island was the rack. Cyra knew that with Chris being six feet tall, he could easily reach them, but because she was shorter, they were going to have to be lowered a little bit.

It still amazed her
that she was going to be living in this giant mansion. It was absolutely crazy. One minute she was a cop, then agent, and now dating a man who made her absolutely giddy with love.

Life was full of twists and turns
, and they happened without a single warning.

Going up on her toes, her fingers just barely touched the stem. Using the island to brace herself, she boosted up slightly and finally achieved her goal.

As she
dropped down, someone grabbed her arm and scared the hell out of her. As Cyra spun, the glass fell from her fingertips, and she screamed bloody murder.

 

 

 

Chris was on his way down the big mahogany staircase to their kitchen to find her. As his foot hit the last step, he heard Cyra’s shriek. It was horrible and sounded like there was another assault in progress. Racing through the living room and into the kitchen, he found the woman he loved, being backed into a corner by the woman who gave him life.

“Mother!”
Chris shouted as he raced to stand in front of Cyra. Now, he got why she was so afraid. Belladonna Leonard had Igor on her hand and was using him as a weapon to scare her.

Pulling Cyra to his back, he could feel her bury her face in
to his shoulder blade as her body shook violently against his.

“Hello,
son. It seems you have a stranger in your house,” she stated as she stroked Igor. “But we handled it just fine, didn't we little love?”

There was a strangled sob from the woman he
adored. “Mother, this isn’t a stranger! It’s my girlfriend, and she’s afraid of spiders, so put him away!”

The woman shrugged and wandered away, talking lovingly to the arachnid.

Chris was incredibly sick to his stomach over everything that had just happened. “Oh God, sweetheart I’m so sorry!” He turned and pulled her into his body. Again, he was worried she was going to pass out as she hyperventilated. “He’s gone and so is my mother. It’s okay,” he crooned, running his hands soothingly over her back. “I’m here.”

Cyra had been warned. Chris told her that the house was haunted and his mother popped up all the time.
She just didn't expect her to do so with a spider on her hand.

God!
This was a disaster.

When he looked into her face, Chris could see she was regaining her composure. “How about I put you up on the counter so you don’t cut yourself
, and I’ll clean up,” he stated, picking her up to keep her off the floor

“I’m sorry
. She caught me off guard,” she apologized. “I’ll try and adjust to Igor.”

“Cyra, you don’t have to say that. Everyone has a big fear in life. Yours is just here in this house
,” he muttered the last part, “with my freaking mother.” He had fears too, and the big one was that Cyra was going to walk out the door and never come back.

She closed her eyes and took some deep breaths. “I’m okay now,” she replied. “I’ll help you clean
the mess up,” Cyra offered as she hopped down off the counter.

As they knelt side by side, she rested against him.

“Do you want me to kick her out?” he asked quietly. If she wanted him to, he would do it.

Cyra shook her head
, knowing that she couldn’t ever make him do that. It was the only parent he had in life. “As long as that eight legged menace is gone, I’ll be fine. I can handle your mom.”

She held the dustpan as he swept the debris into it.

“I’m making her take him and his terrarium tonight. I don’t need you to wake up with him in bed.”

“Ugh.”
That had to be the worst thought ever. She actually shuddered at the visual in her head.

“Do you want me to get dressed and drive you home?” he asked
as fear filled him.

That sentence made her heart skip in her chest.
“Why? You don’t want me here anymore?”

Chris was horrified
that she even thought that. “NO! I want you to stay. I just know what’s coming and I’m trying to protect you.”

Cyra
suddenly wanted to cry. Already, she could feel him retreating back behind the cool veneer that he used when he was hurting. “What do you think is coming, Christopher?”

It was time to stop discussing
it. Everything that happened was already pushing her towards the door. Cyra had easily accepted his scary house and wanted to live with him. Why, he would never know, but now there was more mess on the horizon.

“Chris?”

He ignored the question. “Let’s go sit down. She’s going to want to meet you,” He dreaded that moment. It never went well and was a big reason he was still a bachelor at his age.

“Okay
, Christopher.”

He poured them both a glass of wine. Chris had a feeling they were going to need it.
Maybe, he should whip out a bottle of tequila too and give her a few shots.

“Are you sure you can handle dealing with her, Cyra? I
’ll be more than happy to have her go home, and we can do this another night.” Yeah, after they were living together and married. Then she couldn’t desert him.

Cyra declined
that offer. She was big into facing things head on and not hiding. “No, I don’t mind. She’s just another person, and all that I have to do is treat her like I would want to be treated,” she stated.

Oh
, fiery gates of hell
.

This was going to be one big disaster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~ Chapter Twelve ~

 

 

 

It didn't take long to
return to the hotel and prepare for the night’s festivities. As she stood in the bathroom, she examined herself in the mirror. The flowing white gown fit her perfectly, and slid down her body as if it was made for her. The cleavage was cut low, showing off all her baby made assets. Thanks to motherhood, she had filled out nicely. Around her throat sat the necklace that Callen had purchased for her, and on her finger was Ethan’s ring.

Did she believe
that they actually kept her safe?

Not really, but if the men needed that reassurance, so be it
, and who was she to question it.

Now
, it was time to finish getting ready.

It had taken a while to decide what to do with her hair.
Rarely did she wear her hair down in public, only because it was too big and bulky. Most of the time, she wore it pulled back, out of her face and way. Both men loved it long, or she’d have cut it a long time ago. It was to the point that it was getting cumbersome. Tonight, she was going to let it free. God help them all.

She opted for no makeup, going with the au natural look for a witch’s circle. It simply felt right.
At the last minute, she opted for some gloss, just to give her lips a little tint of color and flavor, in case she happened to be caught alone with two Natives in need of mouth to mouth resuscitation.

Elizabeth grinned wickedly as she
examined herself in the mirror once more. If she didn't know better, she’d most definitely pass as a witch. The black hair, the pale skin and the wardrobe, all made her feel like she was ready for the evening.

Opening the door, it was time to face the men.

 

 

 

Ethan and Callen both opted for all b
lack. If they were going to be tracking witches and their wife through the woods, they needed to have cover. Blending in was going to be essential. Both men had opted for black, long-sleeved Under Armor shirts that would be covered by their Kevlar vests. Their black cargo pants would hold anything and everything they needed.

As she watched them from the bathroom door, it
took her breath away as they stood there helping each other braid their hair. At one time, it had been Timothy Blackhawk’s job, but as time healed their wounds, she’d taught them how to do it. Ethan had just about mastered it.

“You both look sexy
all dressed up as Native snipers,” she stated, finally getting their attention. When they turned, the looks on their faces said it all.

Yeah, they liked the dress.

“You look ethereal,” stated Blackhawk, as his gaze scanned her full body from her hair to toes peeking out. Then his eyes stopped on her cleavage and his heart pounded. Okay, she looked delectable.

“Angel,” Callen stated
as he stared at her with his mouth hanging open. “You look amazing. Do we get to keep that dress?”

She laughed, “Why?”

“I don’t know about Callen, but I’m thinking of building my own altar to worship you on,” Ethan replied as he moved towards her. Holding out his hand, his tough and ballsy wife, floated towards him effortlessly. It drove him wild. “I don’t see lipstick, so I plan on stealing a kiss.”

She stared
up into his blue black eyes. In the flat sandals, she was even smaller than usual. “I won’t stop you, Ethan.”

Lowering his lips to hers,
the second they touched he was driven wild by the taste of her lip-gloss. It was sweet and fruity, and made him want to sink deeper into the depths of her mouth. God, what he wouldn’t give to stay in for the rest of the night.

Elizabeth loved the feel of his hands in the back of her hair
as he controlled the kiss. Escaping would be impossible, since he was keeping her mouth locked to his, as tongues did battle to be victorious.

Finally, he
released her. Ethan knew that if he continued, they would be very late. “I love you,” he whispered, staring down into her eyes. “You’re my heart.”

She ran her thumb across his lower lip. “I love you so much, Ethan.
I don’t have words.”

Releasing her, he watched as she moved towards
Callen and his open arms.

“You
look beautiful but then again, you always do,” he whispered, bringing his lips to hers to enjoying the feel of tongue against tongue as they slid in perfect syncopation. It was the rhythm of lovers, and it was a dance as old as time. There could be absolutely no doubt, she was made for both of them.

Elizabeth
melted into him, as his hands lifted her by the waist to hold her against him.

As her arms wrapped around
his neck, he deepened the kiss and was filled with so much need and want. Those deep desires were limitless when it came to her.

Finally
, as Callen lowered her to the ground, he released her mouth. “Next time I get to kiss you first, he hogged all the lip gloss,” Callen said, laughing.

Ethan was strapping on his gun across his thigh, since the Kevlar was blocking his hip. “You snooze, you lose
, bro.”

Elizabeth picked up the brush on the bed and moved towards her husband. “Want me to
do your braids, handsome?” she asked, as he took a seat in front of her. As she made the long smooth strokes through his hair, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her fingers and brush.

After his grandfather had passed away, they’d discovered the bliss of having Elizabeth
do this. It was why Ethan was growing his out. This nighttime ritual called to him. It was something reminiscent of the warrior, heading off to battle and his woman preparing him.

It was erotic.

Intimate.

And their little ritual.

As she placed the brush down, her fingers nimbly made one long braid down the back. Tying off the end, she kissed him on the cheek. “You’re all done, sexy.”

He turned
to offer her a kiss. “Thank you, baby.”

“Oh look mine fell out,” Callen stated, undoing
all of Ethan’s work. “I think it was a hair tie malfunction.”

The men in her life entertained her
. “Come here.” Taking her time, she also brushed his with even longer strokes. “Cal, your hair is longer than mine.”

He knew it.
When he first had figured out that Elizabeth loved to lie beside him on the couch and play with it while they watched a game, even before they were a couple, he vowed to not cut it. That simple contact had once been his only solace and peace. Now, he had so much more with her, but still cherished the memory of it. “I know you like it.”

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