Spellbound(30)
Author: Sylvia Day

“Can you work from home the next few days?”

“Sure.” She hated working away from the office, but she wasn’t going to bitch. Max had enough on his mind.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then,” he murmured, a soft smile on his lips.

Thirty minutes later, Victoria felt a semblance of equanimity. Max had washed her from head to toe, his dexterous fingers kneading her scalp and every muscle. He was so good to her. So good for her.

He dressed her in a simple set of pajamas, choosing to secure each button himself rather than with magic. “There.”

“Here.” She lifted onto her tiptoes and kissed his jaw. “And I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

A rough sound escaped him and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. He held her for a moment, then they were home. The abrupt introduction of sax music jolted her. But the bigger shock came from the naked blonde in a leather collar who was strolling into the living room by way of the bedroom hallway.

“Max,” Jezebel purred, stretching as if just waking. “I thought you were kidding about bringing your kitten home to play with us.”

Victoria’s gaze was riveted to the MAX engraved in the black leather circling the witch’s neck and to the marks on her br**sts that were perfectly laid out and aligned in Max’s recognizable pattern.

“Jezebel,” Max growled. “What the f**k do you think you’re doing?”

“You, darling.” She smiled and cupped her br**sts, offering them up. “Any way you want.”

Vicious magic surged within Victoria, thick and black and hot. It roiled and singed her hands, itching to be freed. “Bitch,” she hissed, “you’d better vanish real quick.”

“I told you, darling,” Jezebel said, licking her lips as she tugged on her own ni**les. “Familiars don’t play well with others.”

Max stalked toward her and Victoria lost it, unable to let him put his hands on another woman. Especially a naked woman wearing a collar with her man’s name on it.

Her hands thrust forward before she thought about it, magic shooting from her fingertips in arcs of green lightning. The hit lifted Jezebel from her feet and sent her flying backward down the hall.

“For f**k’s sake!” Max’s head whipped toward Victoria, revealing a thunderous scowl. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Obviously you did when you brought that trash into my house!” she shot back, her hands fisting against the urge to strike out again.

A Mack truck slammed into her chest. At least that’s what it felt like. She was tossed onto her back and sent skidding into the sofa. Victoria screamed, her chest smarting and pajama top smoking from the direct hit.

“Stop!” Max roared, stepping into the middle of the hallway as a barrier.

Jezebel pounced and leaped over him, spinning midair to land on her feet, her hair flowing around her like a cape. Victoria was even more nimble, her catlike reflexes kicking in with a vengeance. Max lunged, his arms wrapping around the witch from the back, and poof. They were gone.

Unreasonable fury coursed through Victoria along with a rush of magic the likes of which she’d never felt before. She trusted Max, believed in him, was sane enough to know he couldn’t come at her the way he had all evening if he’d gotten off earlier with someone else.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t spitting mad that he’d brought his ex into their house, an ex who was bat-shit crazy and hurting for an ass kicking.

“Max!” she yelled. But he was gone.

Seething, she powered off the stereo and stalked through the house, searching for any trace of Jezebel. The rage grew when she found her and Max’s bed mussed and smelling like the witch’s perfume. It smelled like something else, too. Something smoky and slightly acrid. She tore off the sheets, shredding them with claws she hadn’t realized had extended.

She was running through all the things she had to say to Max when he returned, growing angrier with every minute that passed, when the wards around the apartment jingled with warning.

“You want more, witch?” she muttered, dropping the sheets and heading toward the door. Her palms started itching again, reminding her of the shot she’d taken before. Her magic had never manifested as lightning arcs of power previously. She needed Max to help her understand that. And a clearer head.

Gods, how much had this hunt affected them?

She reached the front door and realized the threat was behind her. The hairs on her nape stood on end and she pivoted, shifting to her feline form to make less of a target. The windows crackled with the energy surging from outside, and she shook off the clothes that were puddled around her paws and raced to one, leaping onto a console table to get a better look.

Eyes darting, she searched the skyline, seeing nothing to combat but feeling the pull of magic. It pierced her chest where the wound still throbbed, forcing a shift into a human form against her will. She fell from the console, back arching, magic flaring in a surge of power that shattered the windows.

A black cloud poured through the breach and solidified beside her as a man. Copper-haired, with eyes so dark they appeared black, he radiated a dark power that sent goose bumps racing across her bare flesh.

He knelt beside her and she found she couldn’t move, could barely breathe. The place on her chest where Jezebel had struck her with magic burned as if she’d been hit with acid. It ate through her in agonizing darts, spreading throughout her body.

He smiled. “Relax. It won’t last long.”

The pain hit her heart and she cried out, her muscles seizing. Then she mercifully lost consciousness.

The moment Max materialized in Jezebel’s home, he shoved her away from him, his palms burning from the touch of her skin. She was feverishly hot, her eyes wild. The deep gash by her shoulder from Victoria’s strike didn’t seem to register at all. And the curve of her lips was so crazed it gave him chills.

He waved a hand to clothe her in a robe.

“Max.” She shook her head. “You didn’t used to be this uptight. Clearly your Familiar isn’t keeping you happy.”

“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, Jezebel,” he warned. “I suggest you think of me as a fond memory and stay the hell away.”

“But we’re drawn to each other! I know you feel it, too.” She stepped closer, her hand extended as if to touch him.

And he did feel it. Enough to take a sharply indrawn breath. The call of like to like was strong, but it wasn’t sexual. It was magical.