Something About Witches (16 page)

That’s the way most women are about their first gun. They tend to think the bigger one does the best job.

He was right, but it didn’t change the instinct. Even now, having so much more knowledge of firearms than she’d had then, such that she knew a smaller grip gave her better control, she’d still take that Sig over the sleeker Walther she’d left at home.

After she did about fifty rounds with each weapon, she policed her brass, then took a seat on a stump. Slipping her feet out of her shoes now that there was no danger of hot shells falling on her toes, she propped them on the edge of the cut tree, rocking on the point of her buttocks as she popped open her soda, took a sip from it. One hundred percent Dr Pepper, no additives today. Being immersed in all
this the past week, and being away from Raina, Derek, all of them, she’d had no need for deception.

That thought should have made her miss them less, but of course that wasn’t the case.

She studied the way the leaves fluttered on the trees above, a canopy stirred by the wind, showing bits of the late-afternoon sky. Shards of dying sunlight found their way through, touching her face. Now that she’d stopped shooting, she heard birdcalls, the rustling of squirrels foraging on the forest floor. She stopped rocking, because filtering through those noises was something else. Human movement. A human moving on booted feet.

He could move like a ghost, but he was smart enough not to sneak up on a woman with loaded guns. As she let her feet slip to the ground, she realized she hadn’t showered after the grueling coven practice. Her hair was scratched up into a tail, and her hike through the woods with munitions and multiple firearms had left her sweat-stained in her T-shirt and jeans. She told herself she didn’t care she looked like she’d been working with a railroad gang.

He was following the same trail she’d taken, though there were several from Linda’s house that led to this place. Had he woken Linda and asked her where Ruby had gone, or had he just tracked her? She was guessing the latter.

He wore his hat with his jeans and boots, of course. Since it was still winter, technically, and the early evening was bringing back a touch of that chill, the battered long coat and long-sleeved shirt under that wasn’t out of place, but she wondered from what cold environment he’d come that he needed more than he’d usually wear in a Southern climate like this. When he lifted his gaze so that the hat brim revealed his face, she tried hard to remain unmoved, but it was pretty much pointless. She hadn’t taken any Deception, hadn’t expected him here, so she was defenseless.

She’d spent the week teaching the coven to be prepared in every instance, but she’d lowered her own guard.

There was something in his eyes, something different. More cautious, as if he was holding something in, something pretty strong. Coming to a halt a few feet away from her, he swept her with that appraising gaze. Stayed silent an uncomfortably long time.

“You should have called Linda to let her know you were coming.” She cleared her throat. “She would have made you dinner.”

He dug into the pocket of the coat, came out with a package of beef jerky and a cold beer. She expected he’d swiped the latter from Linda’s fridge. “Care to share your seat?”

She obliged, moving the Sig from the stump to the top of its case, making room for him. Opening the jerky, he offered some to her. She made a face at the smoky smell, but took a piece. When he popped the beer, also inviting her to take some of that, she gestured with the Dr Pepper. “Is beer and jerky all you’re having for dinner?”

“Had a late lunch. Twelve-pack of beef tacos at Taco Bell. This will hold me awhile.”

She shook her head. “When you die of heart disease, if the Pearly Gates are guarded by cows, you’re going to be in deep shit.”

“My cholesterol’s pretty good for a man my age.”

She pressed her lips together, chewed the tough jerky. His hip was pressed against hers, his shoulder sliding along hers in casual familiarity. Every place he touched was warm, and though she was trying to be discreet about it, she was inhaling his scent with the desperation of a coke junkie. He was staring into the forest in kind of an absentminded way. Though he didn’t feel distant, there was something pretty weighted between them.

“They’re doing well,” she ventured. “The coven.”

“I expected nothing less, especially with you as their teacher.”

“You chose good students.”

He looked down at the arsenal at her feet. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I don’t know. Can you?”

At his expression, she shrugged. “You so rarely ask permission for anything. Were you attacked by a Miss Manners demon on the way here?”

“I vanquished it, but the residual effect is lingering.” His gaze lifted to her face. “Why did you choose to do this, Ruby? The gun shop? I’m not picking a fight. I want to know.”

It was a fair question, and one she could probably answer without getting into some sticky areas, because she’d had to answer the same thing for Raina and Ramona.

“You remember Mad Max?”

Warmth and wry amusement crossed his expression. “I had a feeling he was behind this.”

“Other than you, I guess you could say he was my only friend, for all that he was a bit crazy and I had to be careful not to go see him on one of his bad days.” He was one of their Monterey neighbors, an eccentric who rarely came out of his home. She met him when she was eleven, during one of the rare occasions when they were at the Monterey home for longer than a few weeks. Escaping Mary’s never ending list of demands one afternoon, she’d wandered onto his extensive property by accident. He’d caught her, and instead of being terrified by him, she’d been intrigued by the bushy eyebrows, the fact he had a patch over one missing eye, and that he was a World War II vet. He’d liked that she was quiet and listened, and before long she’d discovered his passion. He was a gun collector, and he shared that love with her, showing her that guns were intricate and amazingly engineered little machines. He didn’t particularly like cleaning them after target practice due to his arthritis, so in exchange for learning about each of them and getting to shoot them under his supervision, she’d helped him out with that.

When he’d died, he’d shocked her to the core by leaving
the whole collection to her, along with a note.
If you ever decide what you want to do to set yourself apart from your mother, sell these to finance it.
She’d kept the gun he’d carried during the war, but she’d used the rest to finance Arcane Shot.

She explained that to Derek, but she could tell he was already up to speed. “You went to see him.”

“When you first mentioned him to me, I paid him a visit. Made sure he was okay. He was. Messed up some by the war, but he loved you to death. You have that effect on older men.”

She made a face at him, but couldn’t help shoving at him with her shoulder, coloring a little. It shouldn’t surprise her that Derek had done what Mary should have done, safeguarding her welfare with a solitary male stranger. He nudged her back.

“I understand the background and why you’d be good at running Arcane Shot. My question is, why this instead of Witches R Us? Last time I saw you, magical study was what you wanted to do more than anything.”

She shrugged. “You know the whole ‘people suck’ thing? Well, I figured out love, peace and understanding only go so far. You have to keep a choke collar on some people. Everything is about balance. So this helps me do that, in a different way.”

He took a swallow of the beer. She smelled that appealing combination, high-testosterone male mixed with fragrant hops. “Give me specifics,” he said. “Help me understand.”

She pursed her lips. “The focus of my shop is self-defense and protection of the things that matter. A lot of my clientele are military. I have a group of Vietnam vet retirees who come out once a week to use the firing range as an excuse to just hang together, connect. At least thirty percent of my customers are women, who want to take care of themselves and their families. Sometimes that includes the ones dealing with those joke restraining orders against abusive spouses. I get some hunters, but only those who hunt to feed their families, not to put some rack on their wall. That’s the
kind of vibe I put in the wards on my shop. I don’t want the guys who consider killing a sport, or the skinheads and gangbangers, the testosterone junkies. I want my guns in the hands of people like Mad Max, those who are willing to help keep that choke-collar balance out there. I run gun safety courses for anyone who wants to learn, any age, even minors accompanied by parents. Kids are better off knowing how to handle and respect a firearm, not having them hidden away from them like skin mags they’ll obsess over.”

She paused. “I guess it’s a different passion, but related. And I get on a soapbox about some of it. Sorry.”

“I noticed. You grew about a foot taller during that speech. Figured you were standing on something. So you still serve the Light.”

“Did you doubt it?” She arched a brow. “Dark and Light magic can both serve the Light, Derek. You just can’t give a shit about your soul when you use them both to do it.”

Oh, hell.
Fuck, double fuck and damn.
She shouldn’t have said that. Even though she averted her gaze to stare out in the woods the same way he’d done, she could feel those intense blue eyes on her face. She tensed as he set his beer aside, the jerky, too. However, he merely stood up, took her hand, drew her up as well. In bare feet, the height difference was quite a bit, so she stared at his throat, the pulse thudding there.

“You have a choice now,” he rumbled, sliding his arm around her waist. “Kiss me good enough, I won’t make you tell me right now what the hell that means. You might put it off another day.”

She set her jaw. “I’m not going to kiss you, Derek Stormwind. Or tell you anything.”

He touched her chin. Guiding it up with his large hand despite her resistance, he made her meet his gaze. Not the gaze of her former lover, but something more powerful and ancient than that, something that guarded the gates.

Sudden panic had her wrenching away, though she couldn’t get away from the arm around her waist. She put
both hands on his chest, straight-armed him. “Derek, if you try to read me to figure out whatever it is you’re trying to figure out, we’re done. I mean it. You’ll never darken my door again. You won’t rape my mind to get what you want.”

Betrayal and frightened fury underscored the words.
Please don’t cross that line.
The shadows of the past were quick to surge up. Wind cut the ground at their feet, sending a spray of dried leaves swirling around their bodies. The trees groaned above. Angry heat throbbed beneath her soles.

“Shit.” He took care of her strong-arming, cinching his arm around her shoulder blades like a lasso, folding her against his chest. It burrowed her in the scent of old leather, shirt and Derek. “Fine. Easy, girl. Settle down. I wasn’t going to.”

“Were, too,” she muttered, trying to settle her heart back down, trying to shove those shadows back down with a mental plunger. The wind died, the ground becoming dormant again.

“Maybe a little. But I’d never push it past your will, Ruby.” He cupped the back of her skull now, fingers tangling in her hair, mussing the hold of her ponytail further. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Okay? Can you trust me that much?”

It broke her heart, the rough note in his voice. It told her he knew he’d lost her trust, and he didn’t know where or how. But he wanted it back.

“I’ve always trusted you more than I trust anyone.” She wasn’t enough of a bitch to deny him that. Curling her hands in his coat, she pressed her face harder against him, his strength. Fuck, she couldn’t do this. She was slipping, slipping toward something dangerous. She wanted to wilt in his arms.

Instead, she lifted her head, stretched up on her toes and pressed her mouth against his. It was tentative only in that first second. Another blink, and it was hard, angry, needy. She told herself to cloud his intent with lust, push away her personal need to surrender. She could take control with hammering desire, because it would serve both their purposes.

He held her head in those large hands that could cover her ears, tease her nape with his fingertips. His thumbs stroked along the hollows of her cheeks, the corners of her mouth. They dipped down to her jaw, his touch so close to her sensitive throat, the pulse thudding there.

Taking her anger, he responded with a fierce tenderness that was far more dangerous and overwhelming. She could feel he had his own anger, his own scores to settle with her, but he wasn’t holding back on the yearning, the emotions, that made those things so important to him. She latched onto that yearning, tried to ignore the rest, the elephant in the room. Maybe she could pretend, go back to the way it felt before, and it would be all right. As a child, magic was make-believe, not Dark or Light forces, arcane studies and such. It was supposed to be easy, flowing, coming when you called it. Like this. Maybe that was why sex was so easy to mistake for it…. or to accept
as
it.

She made a noise in her throat, and his fingers tightened, one hand dropping to pull her even closer. His body was solid oak, yet she melded into its hollows and valleys, a perfect fit. Her hands, now folded in against him, could spread out like a bird’s wings over his chest, feel the man beneath the cloth. As she gave herself over to the heat of his firm mouth, they slid up to his neck, dug in to hold, because when Derek Stormwind put his mind to kissing a woman senseless, she needed all the support she could get.

He hadn’t needed to tease her lips apart because she’d come to him open and heated. His tongue tangled with hers, his lips caressing and stroking her mouth the same way on the outside, a primal yet complex foreplay that had her whole body humming, coming alive wherever it was touching his.

God, she wanted him to take her down right now, right here, on the forest floor, that serrated edge of need tearing at her. “Fuck me,” she muttered against his mouth. “Now. Right here.”

Though her urgency with Derek in the past had been
expressed in similar yet less crudely blatant ways, it was a definite tell of the kind of company she’d been keeping. She cursed herself anew as he picked up on it, stiffened. Still holding her tight, he lifted his head.