Guardian of My Soul (11 page)

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest and turned the thought
over in his mind, looking at it from as many angles as he could mange.

“I think we should call Lewis, Arnaut and Maving to drop the
hints about the notebook,” Kyle replied after a moment’s thought. “Between the
three of them they cover pretty much every branch of the seedier side of the
magical underworld. It shouldn’t be too difficult to casually mention we’ll be
heading up to the cabin for a few days to lay low. When each of them are
tapped—which will be sooner or later depending on what method the traitor
searches for us—then they will all end up passing along that nugget too. I’ve
kept my ownership of the cabin all above board, but it will be a bit of work to
unearth. It won’t let the Mage think it’s too easy.”

“Sounds as if we have a plan,” Sally said on a sharply
indrawn breath. She raised her eyebrows at him and Kyle stepped toward her,
closing the distance between them. Tenderly he cupped his hands either side of
her jaw and brought their lips together in a searing kiss.

They tasted each other passionately. Kyle indulged himself
with gently nibbling and sucking Sally’s lower lip before capturing her tongue
and tangling his own erotically around it, sucking her into his mouth and
releasing her in an intimate game of cat and mouse.

Sally rose to him, her fingers twisting in the back of his
hair, pulling him closer down toward her. Eagerly he tightened his hold around
her, pressed his body into the soft warmth of hers. They both moved back a
pace, then two until Sally was pushed against the wall and he could move his
thigh between her legs, spreading her intimately for him.

She rode him eagerly, small, soft sounds falling from her
lips as they continued to eat hungrily at each other. Their teeth nipped, their
lips searched and their tongues twined together as their hands began to explore
desperately seeking relief. Kyle grunted as the pads of Sally’s fingers dove
beneath his shirt and traced along his muscles.

His cock hardened painfully tight within his jeans when her
fingers didn’t hesitate as they crossed over the smooth, shiny skin of his numerous
scars. Long before in the past he had always been self-conscious of revealing
his body to the women he had shared sex with. Usually they fell into one of two
categories.

Half would usually be one variant or another of the common
thrill seekers. By and large they merely wanted to use him only for the thrill
of sleeping with an active field operative, someone who would make a
titillating story for their friends later on. The rest almost certainly would
fall into the category of a regular witch—or more rarely an unsuspecting human
woman—who would be shocked and eventually repulsed by his battle scarred body.

Sally was neither of these and that added an extra layer of
pleasure and comfort for Kyle. Her fingers neither lingered upon the harsher
parts of his body, nor did they skip over those areas with guilt or
trepidation. To her, these long healed wounds were just another part of his
skin, bone, tissue and hair. A part of him. No more and no less.

Love, potent and raw filled him. In that moment Kyle knew he
could not only never love another witch as he loved this one, but never could
he hope to have an equal such as this lithe, beautiful witch. She was his
partner, his lover, his best friend and his equal in every way possible. He
adored her.

His cock surged as he thrust his hips instinctively into
hers. Her body arched up, accepting him even as they struggled to become closer
through their clothes. Kyle’s hands instinctively fell to the waistband of her
skirt. He recognized the white and colorfully printed item. She had looked
feminine and enticing in it that day in the park, but she looked delicious in
it right now. He wanted her out of it and spread wantonly before him as he took
her passionately.

“Kyle,” she chided him, warning creeping into her low tone.

“Sally, I really want to—” he began but she cut him off with
another hungry kiss. This time they were both panting when she pulled away a
few inches so she could speak.

“Kyle, we need to get moving,” she insisted. “Morgan will be
at that meeting in a few hours. He won’t wait for us if we get distracted. We
have to pack our kits, make those calls and with traffic it will take us over
an hour to get to the park, let alone the cabin.”

His forehead pressed hotly against hers as he struggled to
restrain himself. Hunger beat in his chest and groin. It took Kyle a moment to
get himself back under control and his shaft ached for release, to plunge
deeply within Sally’s wet, welcoming cunt and lose himself utterly. He craved
to hear her scream for him, to grasp at him intimately as she climaxed over and
over.

Patience was one of the first lessons he had ever learned
back in the Academy. Although it nearly killed him, he tightened his control
and finally opened his eyes to gaze deeply at his love.

“You’d better go get packed then, hadn’t you, love?” he
replied. Kyle’s voice was thick with need, hoarse with the effort it cost him
to loosen his hold on his partner. She cupped his jaw, the tips of her fingers
delicate against his skin as she stroked him.

“We’ll have time,” she promised him, her eyes darkening with
lust as her breaths came faster. “We’ll make time. I need you too. More than
you could believe possible.”

“Oh, I’d believe it,” he chuckled. Threading his fingers
through one of her hands he lowered their joined palms to cup his aching,
thickly erect shaft. A smile blossomed beautifully across Sally’s face and Kyle
just stared at her.

She was the most bewitching woman he had ever encountered.
Eagerly he memorized every plane and angle of her face, every shade of color
that came together to make her his witch, his Sally.

Lightly he brushed his lips against hers one last time and
then he gently nudged her away from him and into the direction of her bedroom.

“Let me catch my breath, you go pack. I’ll be here when you’re
ready,” he insisted. She gazed at him for a moment, but then with a brief nod
she turned and moved to get herself ready. Kyle’s eyes fluttered shut and he
drew in a long, deep breath.

You have the rest of your lives,
he reminded himself
firmly.
Neither of you are going anywhere. You can wait a short time, get
prepared, packed and on your own turf ready for action so you’re not
blindsided. Let’s not think with our cock just yet. You can spend the next week
discovering each other once you’ve closed this out.

Revved from the self-pep-talk Kyle slapped his hands
together and paced while he waited for Sally to gather what she would need. To
help keep his mind off the beautiful witch he made a mental list of all the
things he’d need to pack himself when they returned to his condo.

Fewer than ten minutes later, his mental list organized and
sorted, Sally returned with a canvas duffel slung over one shoulder. She had
changed into a pair of black camouflage pants and a gray tank top with a gray
hooded sweater unzipped over it to ward off the chill of the air outside. His
battered leather jacket was clasped in her other hand.

Almost reverently she handed it back to him and with a wry
grin he shrugged into it.

“We good?” he asked her. She nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Side by side they left her apartment and locked the door
behind them. They didn’t need to say anything as they headed back to Sally’s
car, they were both well versed in what they needed to do in the immediate
future. There would be plenty of time on their drive up to the cabin to hammer
out the more intricate details of their plan.

Kyle waited as Sally unlocked his door. He slid into the
passenger seat as she threw her duffel into the backseat and climbed in behind
the wheel. The engine turned over on the first go and they were off.

* * * * *

She sat in the Tribunal council chambers and listened to the
members discuss Morgan Knightsburgh’s latest find. Around and around in circles
the conversation went. Most of the conversation contradicted itself as those
who debated continued to change their minds back and forth endlessly.

It was enough to drive her insane.

They all—outwardly at least—agreed something needed to be
done, but no one could find a course of action they all were comfortable with.
Bonita Carter had to continually repress the urge to just kill the lot of them
and take over. Logically she knew she would have the entire tri-state area
close against her and squash her like a bug should she attempt such a thing.

But still the desire persisted.

If she didn’t have so much more important things to do it
might almost be worth trying to rise to the challenge, to see how long she
could retain power by brute force and her own mammoth dark powers. But she had
lasted this long because she understood the art of subtlety, she comprehended
the true meaning of “flying under the radar”.

And so she sat with a placid smile upon her face and
listened to that moron Elron blather on about how they really needed to destroy
this newfound dark ritual, but no, no they couldn’t do it themselves and they
couldn’t give it to someone else to destroy in case it fell into the wrong
hands. Bonita didn’t know what other third option Elron thought there would be.
Did he plan to summon pixies to destroy the ritual for him?
she wondered
with more than a little sarcasm.

It had been more than forty minutes since Morgan had dropped
his latest bombshell and no progress toward
any
decision had been
reached. The majority of other elders had spoken at least once to give their
thoughts, questions and opinions hearing. Bonita decided it was more than safe
and timely enough for her to add in her own voice to the mix.

She waited until Elron paused to gather even more of his
scattered thoughts and cut into his monologue.

“Like you all I firmly agree we should destroy this dark
artifact,” she said clearly in her carrying voice. Most of the heads of her
compatriots turned to watch her and she had to repress the desire to preen
under the attention. Bonita noticed Morgan’s gaze fell heavily on her and she
tried to not turn under his watchful eye.

She knew what he would see. A tall, willowy brunette. More
than a few times in her youth she had despised the thick mass of brown spiral
curls that fell almost to her waist. The thickness of her hair meant she had
only ever had two options left open to her—either to severely restrain the
curls or let them roam free and appear wild.

After a time she didn’t care if the mass made her look
slightly feral, she had grown accustomed to the uselessness of trying to tame
her hair. Her eyes were dark brown and glinted with something many terms had
been used for. She liked to think it was the only outward symbol of the deep,
black magical power she had always known she possessed. Others called it many
derogatory terms: madness, obsession and an unhealthy hunger to name but a few.

Bonita, however, knew she held great power. She wielded a
fierce amount of energy and could harness magic others could not even dream of.
Long ago she had ceased to listen to her naysayers and rely only upon her own
truthful inner instincts. They had to date never led her wrong and she knew
they never would.

A part of her, the marginally paranoid section that had
helped keep her alive so long, wondered if Morgan could truly have found
another ritual. He had hinted of its evilness. A soul-binding spell so dark he
had not dared bring it before them for fear it might fall into the wrong hands.

Bonita had collected a few weaker versions of the spell he
hinted at, but she had long searched for a true, potent rendition of this
arcane casting. Her mouth salivated at the thought of owning and using such a
thing. The souls she could collect, the power she could wield, the lives she
could commandeer. A giddy delight grew deep in her chest and she had to control
herself to not let her excitement shine through.

“Morgan, you are indeed astounding to have come across two
such manuscripts in such a short time,” Bonita cooed, happy to congratulate her
foe and show the right face to the powerful Mage. “I know I speak for us all
present here tonight when I say how grateful I am that both your protégés have
managed to elude those who would seek them harm. I presume you have left the
papers with them again? Far away from those who would use this evilness for
their own purposes and tear our orderly world to shreds?”

“Actually, no,” Morgan replied calmly. “They do not possess
the ritual. I have not even personally seen it. I received word
from…associates…of mine of its existence only a few hours ago. They are
prepared to safeguard it until they hear back from me. I informed them I would
contact them once the Tribunal had made a ruling. That is why I am asking,
should I bring this darkness here to our next meeting? Or should we organize
for it to be destroyed without having viewed it?”

“Until recently we have always viewed such documents to
vouchsafe their legitimacy,” Bonita continued, interrupting two other wizards
who had tried to cut in. “I know sometimes other matters intrude, but are we
actually discussing the changing of our own law-set procedures? Or are we
discussing how we plan to deal with all these artifacts as a whole?”

Multiple wizards began to speak over the top of one another.
The chair, a wizened old witch, called for order and the debate continued.
Having gently inserted her seeds Bonita sat back and watched the byplay until
she could not stand the waffling any longer.

“So we are agreed a small sub-committee is to be formed, to
be regularly re-voted upon and changed within our numbers so no witch or wizard
shall be exposed too much to any given ritual or artifact,” Bonita summarized. “I
move we call a vote.”

Only long years of showing one face to the outside world and
keeping her own, true emotions, hidden deeply let her speak these words calmly
and with a cool collection no one could have doubted. For all intents and
purposes she appeared completely supportive.