The Zombie Billionaire's Virgin Witch (Zombie Category Romance) (12 page)

Both
were lost, because of this man who tucked her closer, though mindful of not
touching her with the cursed side of his body.

She
kept her hand spread out on the living tissue side of his body as she slipped
the ring back onto his hand.  The decay melted away, leaving him whole and
gorgeous once more.  The tingling flare of magic breathed across her
fingers, spreading from the connection with his skin. 

He
wrapped his other arm around her and just held her, his heart thumping steadily
against her. 

How
could she possibly hope to heal him if the magic died as soon as he took off
the ring?

The
ring is as dead to me as Daddy.

TEN

The
hardest part of waiting for
Remy’s
annual evaluation was never knowing
who the inspector might be or when they would actually dine.  Days went
by, services blending together, without word of how the restaurant had fared. 
The award ceremony was in St. Louis this year and only days away.  Of
course they liked to keep the results as secret as possible, and most serious
competitors for the coveted fifth star would plan to be present at the ceremony
either way.

Yiorgos
hadn’t mentioned it to her yet.  He’d probably hoped to break the curse
before the awards, so he could be done with
Remy’s
and her
contract.   He’d never really considered the possibility that she
might win the star for him yet fail to break the curse.

But
oh fail she did.  Every time she looked at him she wanted to cry.  He
didn’t have to tell her the curse was worsening.  Day by day, he looked
more haggard.  His eyes bloodshot, his jaws dark with stubble, his
clothing less impeccable and more like he’d paced himself endlessly back and
forth until he’d finally collapsed, exhausted, in the clothes he’d worn all
day.  For the most part, he’d stayed out of the kitchen, whether to avoid
the grief in her eyes or temptation, she wasn’t sure.

So
when he stepped inside and signaled everyone else to leave, she knew he had
important news.  Feigning calmness, she dried her hands and waited for him
to speak. 

“Your
father would be proud.  This star is all yours, Clare.”

To
hide her trembling hands, she wrapped them in her apron.  “I’m happy I was
able to help, Mr. Michelopoulos.”

He
smiled sadly at the formality but didn’t object.  “I hope you’re free to
go to the award ceremony.  I thought we could drive up tomorrow and enjoy
the finest St. Louis has to offer.  Entirely platonic, of course,” he said
briskly, avoiding her gaze.  “Once you accept the star, I’ll give you the
deed to
Remy’s
along with the ring as we agreed.”

Her
heart stuttered, pain banding her chest.  “But—”

“A
deal is a deal, Clare.  I’ve never broken a contract before and I
certainly don’t intend to begin with you.”

“I
don’t want it,” she whispered hoarsely.  “Yiorgos, no, I won’t take
it.  What will you do?”

Ignoring
her refusal, he turned to the door.  “Don’t worry about packing anything
special.  I want to take you shopping.  It’s not New York, but it’ll
do.  I won’t take no for an answer, Ms. Remy.  I want you looking
your absolute best, not only when you take the fifth star but also when you
sail through your trials.”

She
stared numbly at the swinging door.  How could she have entirely forgotten
about her trials?  She’d always hoped to work her way into the Academy,
but after Daddy’s death, it was even more crucial that she pass her trials and
gain access to the Wizard Council.  She had no other way to make her
living in the world short of working for someone else.  No kitchen witch
truly wanted to work in someone else’s kitchen for long.

Now
she couldn’t imagine working her magic anyplace else than
Remy’s
. 
Let alone ever making Death by Chocolate Cake for anyone but Yiorgos.

Selma
took one look at her face and sat down wearily at the kitchen table laid out
for a midnight snack and herbal tea.  “I was going to try and lecture some
sense into you one last time, but I can see now that I’m too late.”

Clare
didn’t protest because she’d thought of nothing else all the way home. 
There was nothing she could do to break the curse or heal Yiorgos… unless she
were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

The
cost, the sacrifice, enables the magic to be bigger and to work on a talent
that you don’t claim as your own.

Sex
with him would be far from a sacrifice.  She wanted him, more than she’d
ever dreamed possible.  He stirred an ache in her that would never be
satisfied by anything or anyone else.  In giving her virginity to him, she
could very well generate enough power through the sacrifice of her gift to heal
him.

One
last time to wield her magic.  It would be her greatest spell.  If it
worked.

“Tonight,
he promised to give me Daddy’s ring.”

Her
mother looked up with a glimmer of hope, but knew Clare too well to be
appeased.  “But?”

“He
allowed me to put it on,” she whispered, blinking back tears.  “And I felt
nothing.  It’s like the magic in it has died.”

Shoulders
slumped, her mother didn’t even try to hold back her tears.  “Did he break
the stone?”

“No,
it looked perfectly fine.  I hope it’s just the curse itself inhibiting
the magic.  I won’t know until I break the curse and see for myself.”

“You
love him that much.”

It
wasn’t a question, but Clare felt the need to answer, even if just for
herself.  “I do.  I feel incredible with him.  He makes me feel
good about myself, Mom.  Not just my body but my gift in the kitchen
too.  You should see the way he eats my food.  The way he tries to
antagonize me with his patronizing tone of voice and his fierce glares.  I
know, now, that it’s all an act.  It’s like a secret joke that only we two
share.”

Her
mother smiled, a distant, soft look in her eyes.  “I felt the same way
about your father.  Oh, we had so much fun at the Academy.  That’s
where we met.  I was teaching first-year students and he’d just come back
from France, burning with excitement about his plans for a new
restaurant.  He was determined to open up a restaurant right here in
Joplin, even though I didn’t think it could support fine dining.  The last
thing I wanted to do was stay here.  I had plans to transfer to the
Academy in San Francisco as soon as they had an opening.”

“You
gave up a lot to be with Daddy.”

Selma
shrugged.  “Maybe.  Who really knows?  I might have gone out to
California and hated it.  I wasn’t that great at teaching—I’d only
accepted the position because I had an eye on joining the Council some
day.  My mentor had already recommended I move into secular medical school
and become a full-fledged doctor.”

“Why
didn’t you?”

“I
loved Emile more.”

Clare
reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand.  “And he loved
you, Mom.”

“I
miss him, Clare.  That’s the only reason I’ve pushed you so hard. 
I’ve got nothing else to occupy myself with but making sure you’re secure, and
I got so wrapped up in those plans, that I forgot what he’d want most of
all.  You have to be happy, honey.  If taking a position at the
Academy doesn’t make you happy, then don’t do it simply because that’s what I
did.  It wouldn’t have been a good fit for me long term even if I’d
retained my magic.”

Would
Yiorgos make me happy?

If
she retained her magic and could stand toe-to-toe with him in the kitchen, she
would definitely be happy.  She loved sparring with him.  She adored
watching the pleasure spread across his face as he ate her creations. 

But
if she lost her magic…

Would
she be on equal footing with him?  Or would he see her as just one of the
countless annoying females who wanted nothing more than what his wealth and
privilege would provide?  Throw another trinket or two at her just to
pacify her? 

If
I have nothing more to offer him than a powerless mundane woman, will he even
want me?

“I
let myself forget that I had a life beyond simply existing as your father’s
wife and your mother.”  Selma leaned down to kiss her forehead.  “I
don’t regret living either role, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I
blamed you for the loss of my magic.  It was my choice and I’ve had a good
life.  It’s time we both start living our lives to the fullest.  I
love and support you whatever you decide to do.  Just remember that
there’s life beyond magic, if you’re willing to reach out and take it.”

Sipping
her tea, Clare swore silently,
I won’t make the same mistakes, Mom. 
I’m not going to let anyone put me in a box labeled ‘wife’ and simply exist,
least of all, myself.

ELEVEN

Short
of hiring a jet and whisking Clare off to Paris, Yiorgos tried to make the
entire trip a Cinderella fairytale for her.  He’d hired a top-notch limo
to make the drive to St. Louis, secured the nicest suites at the Frontenac, and
spent an obscene amount of money on at least a dozen designer gowns. 
Sometimes being a high-handed arrogant playboy had its advantages.  He’d
ignored her refusals and horror at how much he spent, because in the end, it
was just money, a pittance compared to the millions he’d made and invested in
his lifetime.

It
was the least he could do for the woman who made him feel alive while his body
was rotting around him.

Watching
her face light up as she twirled in front of the full-length mirrors confirmed
that she was the best thing he’d ever known in his entire life.  While the
final hours of his life poured through his fingers like sand, faster and faster
no matter how hard he tried to hold on.    

Dressed
in a sparkling gown and jewels that her glowing eyes put to shame, she
stretched her hand across the fine white linen and threaded her fingers through
his.  “Thank you.”

He
smiled, deliberately trying to push away the heavy sense of gloom weighing on
him.  “It was entirely my pleasure.” 

Soon,
he wouldn’t have a choice.  He’d have to leave her.  He’d never see
the heat in her eyes again, or feel the surge of her magic when she touched
him.  He’d never taste the intoxicating sweetness of her lips or hold the
lush curves of her body that drove him mad with lust.

Her
happiness wavered, and he could barely look at her for fear that he’d burst
into unmanly sobs. 
There’s nothing that can be done.  This is the
last night I’ll have to show you how much you’ve come to mean to me.

When
Remy’s
was awarded the fifth star, everyone stood and applauded. 
Although Yiorgos had done his best to stifle rumblings about trouble at the
restaurant since he’d taken over, rumors had abounded along with ill-will at
his supposed treatment of Remy’s daughter.  Evidently most of them
recognized her after the years she’d attended with Emile. 

A
BBQ competitor from Kansas City congratulated Yiorgos by squeezing his hand so
hard his fingers went numb.  Leaning in, he shouted into Yiorgos’s
ear.  “I’ll take you out back if you hurt one hair on Ms. Remy’s head.”

Yiorgos
smiled back, squeezed harder, and said nothing at all. 

With
utmost grace, Clare accepted the award and dedicated it to her father amidst
thundering applause.  She spoke easily and comfortably as though she’d
been delivering public addresses her entire life.  Her charming smile had
them all eating out of the palm of her hand.

She
hadn’t even had to drug them with Death by Chocolate Cake.

All
too soon, the evening was over. 
My last night with Clare.
 

He
hadn’t decided how to do it yet, but after giving her the ring, he’d go off
somewhere and do the honorable thing.  Maybe she’d make him one last piece
of cake, and he’d sprinkle it with cyanide or something equally deadly.

Yet
he couldn’t completely ignore the doubt niggling in the back of his mind. 
If he was turning into a zombie, could he even die?  Or would he simply
roam around like a mindless nightmare?  His hands shook, his heart
thundering so loudly he was afraid he might pass out. 

She
cupped his cheek, the cool press of her palm against his skin a balm that
helped bring him back under control.  “What is it?”

He
rubbed his face deeper into her caress, inviting her to touch him as much as
she wanted. 
One last time, sweetheart.
  He couldn’t find his
voice, though.  It’d lodged somewhere inside his melting heart.

She
leaned up on tiptoes and pressed her mouth softly to his.  Lightly, she
nibbled at his lips, mingling their breath, and it was all he could do not to
break apart into a thousand pieces.

Taking
his hand, she used the electronic card to unlock her door.  She stepped
inside and tugged on him playfully, but his feet were rooted to the spot. 
He was too raw and wild to trust himself to resist the sweet allure of her
siren call tonight.  He couldn’t risk her, no matter how much he yearned
to hold her just once.

“Come
inside,” she said in that gentle voice that made him want to close his eyes and
bask in her glow for eternity.

“Impossible,”
he finally forced out, his voice as harsh and tight as though he’d tossed the
ring and the zombie mouth couldn’t get the word out of dried up lips.

“I
want you.”

He
shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut against the inviting heat in her eyes. 
“I can’t, Clare.  I can’t control myself.  I’d love to kiss and hold
you through the night, but I won’t be able to stop.” 

One
last time, trying to make up for everything we’ve lost, the hopes and dreams we
can never share.  Because in my arrogance, I was determined to wrest the
one thing I couldn’t have from your father.

Oh,
the irony tasted so bitter on his tongue.  Now there was something else he
wanted so badly he couldn’t live without her…  Yet he couldn’t have her,
either.

“I
love you.”

His
heart crumbled to dust and his knees weakened, almost tumbling him headfirst
into her waiting arms. 
Where’s my pride, my determination to save her?
 
All he wanted was to bury himself in her willing body, wrap her love around
him, and forget.  But that would destroy her, and if he hurt her…

I
can’t live like this for the rest of my life.

At
least she let go of his hand, leaving him standing mute and frozen in her open
door.  She backed away, dropping her gaze, while her hands reached behind
her.  The soft glide of the zipper sent a surge of visceral lust through
him so sharp that he listed sideways and had to grab the doorframe to keep his
balance.

In
slow motion, the gown slithered down her body, baring her full breasts, the
creamy curve of her stomach, and her hips wrapped in the silk panties he’d
bought for her a week or more ago.

He
stared at her, his tongue plastered to the roof of his mouth.  He’d known
she would be gorgeous, but this…  She was a goddess, lush and full-curved,
vibrant and glowing with health and vitality.

Compared
to my withering body.  How can I even think to touch her with these cursed
hands?
 

“It’s
all right now.”  She lifted his hand in hers, inviting him to touch
her.  “I have a plan.”

He
couldn’t think.  Magic leapt from her skin.  His fingers brushed the
swell of her breast and she made a low sound of pleasure that went straight to
his head.  She might as well have hit him over the head with a whole ton
of chocolate cakes oozing her decadent magic. 

“Shut
the door, Yiorgos.”

And
so he did.

Clare
didn’t really know how to seduce a man beyond what she’d read in books, but her
body knew all too easily how to entice him into giving her the pleasure she
yearned to experience.

He
went to his knees and buried his face between her breasts.  “I can’t bear
to destroy you like this.  I’d rather destroy myself.”

She
ran her fingers through his hair, holding him close.  “I think I can heal
you.”

“I
don’t care.  Not if it means you’ll lose your magic.”

“You
already said you were giving me the ring, right?  If this works, the curse
will be lifted.  The ring should enable me to become the formal head of my
family and my magic will be returned to me.”

“You
already had the ring on your hand and it didn’t work.”

Damn,
she’d been hoping he wouldn’t remember that.  “Maybe the curse is
interfering with the magic in the stone.  It should work, once you’re
free.”

“I’m
not willing to risk your magnificent gift on
should
or
maybe
,
Clare.” 

“I
am.”  She tightened her fingers in his hair so he’d feel her
determination.  “If there’s anything in my power that I can do to break
the curse, this is it.  Besides, I want you.  I’ve been dreaming of
this for years.”

“But
you only came to
Remy’s
a few weeks ago.”

He
raised his head, staring up at her so intently that she blushed and shrugged sheepishly. 
“I’ve had a bit of a crush on you for years.  Who wouldn’t?  I never
thought in a million years that you’d even look at me, let alone…”

His
breath ghosted across her skin, raising goose bumps and the tingling promise of
magic.  “Then I was a fool.” 

Her
breasts tightened in response, swollen and tender.  Her knees trembled,
and she was terribly certain she’d already ruined her beautiful new
lingerie.  His fingertips flitted over her skin like gossamer butterfly
wings, while he nuzzled and kissed the tops of her breasts with painful
politeness.

Nice,
definitely, but she’d dreamed of so much more.

He
knows I’m a virgin, so he’s going to be hesitant and careful.  But if I
don’t tell him…

I
may never get another chance to have everything I’ve dreamed.

“Yiorgos?”

He
murmured against her breast, letting his lips brush her in a gentle
caress.  “Don’t be afraid, baby.  I’m going to make all your dreams
come true.  I promise.”

“This
isn’t my dream.”

Pausing,
he raised a narrowed gaze to search her face, the familiar arrogant scowl
furrowing his brow.  She trailed her fingers over his face, rubbing the
frown lines away until his stare wasn’t quite so fierce. 

“You’re
my dream,” she amended, dropping her fingers against his lips when he started
to speak.  “But not this way.  Not all slow and gentle
and…civilized.  I should be on my knees, not you.”

His
dark eyes slitted even more.  “You can’t possibly understand what you’re
asking for.”

“You
think I’m ignorant about sex because I’m a virgin?  In this day and
age?  I might have remained physically chaste out of necessity, but I
assure you, I’ve read thousands of steamy books from historicals to family
sagas, from vampires to aliens to filthy rich, arrogant tycoon alphaholes, but
most of them were only pleasantly enjoyable.  They certainly didn’t make
it to my keeper shelf.”

Evidently
he didn’t much care to be lumped into the
pleasant
or
enjoyable
. 
He stood slowly, unfolding to his full impressive height.  His eyes
glittered and his voice roughened into a low growl, making her heartbeat skip a
beat.  “Which ones made it to that shelf, Clare?”

She
tipped her chin up and arched a brow at him in challenge.  “Guess.”

“All
right.”  Grimly calm, he headed for the armchair opposite the bed while
stripping out of his coat.  He laid it out on the chair and silently
worked on his cuff links.  Then his tie.  All while watching her with
dark, intent eyes.

Standing
mostly nude in the center of the room, Clare began to feel like an idiot. 
A chilly idiot.  She started to cross her arms over her chest, but he
shook his head in a warning.  Feeling more mortified by the moment that
she’d actually dared to put a stop to his sweet, slow seduction, she clamped
her arms tighter over her breasts with a mulish look that hopefully hid the
tremor in her chin.

He
smiled, not with warmth but cold, hard amusement.  “You started this game,
sweetheart.  Are you already waving the white flag?”

“No. 
But that doesn’t mean I’ll blindly obey your commands, either.”

“Oh,
I think it does,” he said in a silky voice that sent chills screaming down her
spine. “You said you ought to be on your knees instead of me.  I’m also
remembering the night I kissed you outside
Remy’s
.  How I pinned
you against the wall in my anger and frustration, but you kissed me back
eagerly, even though you’d just sucker punched me.  All the times I was
deliberately growly and mean but my aggression didn’t deter you in the
slightest.  In fact, the bossier I became, the more you stood up to me,
meeting me toe to toe.”

He
sat down in the chair, stretching his long legs out before him, the epitome of
casual elegance.  The lone lamp by the bed left most of his face in
shadow.  The distant, reserved way he watched her made him seem like a stranger.

A
delicious stranger.

“That
makes me think the books on your keeper shelf had to do with dominance and
submission, Clare.  I think you want me to conquer you.”

Her
cheeks burned but she didn’t drop her gaze.  She swallowed hard, the sound
of her heartbeat reverberating through her skull.  “Yes, I do.”

“So
perhaps you should call me Sir.”

His
voice remained soft but she shuddered both with dread and anticipation. 
How could he convey such menace with just a few words, without raising his
voice at all?  And why did her body have to love that sound so very much?