the shooter’s aim had been off in the first place. Stroking the sexy, hard cut of muscle that defined his torso just above his hip, she said, “Should I ask what reason you gave another person to want to shoot you?”
“Probably you shouldn’t. It was a volatile time.”
“Uh-huh.”
The ingredients necessary were all to hand as Vika stood beside Certainly preparing them in the mortar. He offered her the whiskey and she took a careful sip. She wasn’t much for hard liquor, but despite her determination, she was feeling tense about accomplishing her goal. If all went well, she would have to trick her lover. “Mmm, what’s that?”
“Tunisian vanilla for the sensual mood we need to create.” He rubbed the inside of the bean pod against the bowl of the mortar then stroked his finger behind her ear. “I love this scent.”
“You perfuming me, lover?”
“Words, smoke and the sensory all combine for a stronger spell,” he murmured against her neck as she tended the ingredients, and his attention wandered. “This dress is so short. It’s not your usual Morticia wear.”
“You don’t like my long dresses?”
“Love them. You wear them so tight, makes it easy to visualize what’s beneath. Mmm, and what is beneath makes me so hard.” He nipped playfully at her earlobe, and she squirmed up against his rock-hard chest. “But this is purple. Bright and bold. It’s not you.”
“It’s Libby’s. I thought I’d try something...different for the spell.” His fingers trailed down her spine and to her derriere. “Figured it would be appropriate for bloodsexmagic. You like it?”
“Vivacious Vixen,” he cooed at her ear, nuzzling to scent the vanilla he’d stroked there, while his hand slipped beyond the, indeed, short hem of her dress. “No panties.”
She wiggled her hips. “Not a thread. Where’s the rue?”
Without stopping the gliding strokes his fingers dashed over her thighs, CJ reached high to the overhead shelf for the rue and handed it to her.
“If you think I can concentrate on spellwork, red witch, now knowing you are pantyless, you had better think again.” Moving around behind her, CJ kissed her hair. His finger swept forward, between her legs, and lashed her wet folds. “Of course, that’s the point of this all, isn’t it?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Then I’m sure you won’t mind me getting started now. What’s next?” he asked on a breathy tone.
“That’s everything. We need to smudge the circle with this and— Oh. Oh, that’s...mmm-hmm...”
“Bend,” he whispered.
Vika obeyed his command, spreading her arms to the sides along the wood worktable and bringing her head forward over the mortar fragrant with vanilla and herbs. She tilted her hips, seeking his expert control. “Oh, mercy, Certainly.”
He unzipped his jeans and hugged up against her derriere, sliding a hand around in front to tickle her sensual folds. She pressed a hand over his hip. “No, we can’t. We have to conserve the sexual energy for the spell.”
“Right.” He stroked her faster, wetting his fingers deep within her. “Just getting us ready. You’re so wet, I don’t know if I can wait. We ready? Damn, this short skirt!”
He tugged her upright and kissed her passionately. Vika felt all the man’s frustrations unloose in that kiss. It was rough and needy, and unstoppable. He wanted her now. His body shuddered with restrained control. She took secret delight in owning the power over him.
“I think we’re ready.” He set his glasses on the table and snagged the whiskey bottle. “Grab the mortar.”
He’d poured a wide salt circle earlier, in the north corner of the living area, which sat before the floor-to-ceiling windows. The circle was big enough for a couch to fit inside. Or two people.
Or one very angry demon.
* * *
“Don’t break the circle,” Vika said, cautioning him as they stepped inside. She set the mortar by the tote bag she’d brought along and ensured the remote for the chandeliers was tucked in the couch cushion where she’d left it. Within arm’s reach. “Light the candles.”
CJ had placed six red candles around the circle, and now with a snap of his finger, he ignited them in succession. Simple parlor trick, not fire magic, unfortunately. “You coming down from that hot, slippery passion, sweetie?”
She hugged him from behind, grabbing his crotch and giving it a good squeeze. “Not even.”
Blowing whiskey-tainted breath toward the final candle, he sent a stream of flame spraying out from the wick. “Let’s do this, oh, Torturous One.”
They stepped inside the circle, and CJ unzipped his pants.
“Take them off,” she said, stepping before him and trailing