Spell Cat by Tara Lain Page 0,12

that Killian didn’t want to be thought a sure thing? Or was he thinking this whole enterprise might not be worth his time? Of course, both could be true. “Yes, let’s go… talk.”

“I’ll take my own car.”

“But I can—”

“Merwaoooow.”

Moran’s eyes widened. Al must have on his ferocious glare. The cat sure didn’t seem to like the guy, but hell, Killian wasn’t going to marry him. He shuddered at the M word.

They left the club, and after a short drive in which Aloysius gave him a view of his fuzzy back, they got to the small, chic hotel Moran had specified. Killian left his keys with the valet and gave very specific instructions about how to handle the electric sports car.

Moran waited for him outside the door of the hotel. When Killian approached, Moran reached out with a scarf, definitely trying to wrap Aloysius in it. Hissssss. Al’s ears flattened, and Moran jumped back. Hmm, good reflexes, or he’d have teeth in his hand right now.

Moran held his hand like it had been bitten. “They’ll never let you inside if they see a cat.”

Killian laughed. “I assure you, there will be no problems with Aloysius entering the hotel.” They walked inside. Killian gently petted Al’s head. You’re invisible, aren’t you, boy? With that little invisibility spell, they sailed through the lobby, greeted only by smiles of welcome from the staff.

They rode the fast elevator. Moran reached for Killian, but he sidestepped and laughed. Don’t get too sure of yourself, witch. On the twenty-first floor, they exited and walked to Moran’s room. Moran slipped the key card into the door and opened it for Killian, then flipped on the lights. The room was large, modern, and had a beautiful view of the city. Killian moved over to the window to admire it and heard the door close behind him. A moment later, he felt hands on his shoulders. He started to pull away, and Moran tightened his grip.

Killian turned his head. “Hang on. I think you promised me a drink and some conversation.”

Moran frowned sharply, then quickly recovered with a smile. “Of course. Make yourself comfortable.” He leered and glanced in the direction of the king-size bed with its turned-down coverlet.

Oh, come on. Killian sat in one of the comfortable barrel chairs by the window. Okay, he wanted sex, but he just wasn’t a fall-into-bed kind of guy. Well, except maybe for the occasional human physics professor. He’d certainly been willing to take it up against the wall earlier today. He sighed.

Moran walked over from the minibar with a glass containing half an inch of amber liquid. Killian looked up at him. “What’s this?”

“Whiskey. You said you wanted a drink.”

Ass. “Mr. Inglesby, I drink champagne or the occasional cosmopolitan, as you would know if you had asked me.” He frowned at the glass and set it on the coffee table in front of him. “Certainly not whiskey, neat.”

Moran’s arm circled him from behind. “There are so many more fun things to do than drink.”

That sounded promising. Killian leaned back in the chair and let his head fall against the cushion. A kiss would be nice.

What? Moran’s hands slid down the chair back and grasped his wrists. “What the fuck…?” He could feel handcuffs cutting into his wrists. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s time to stop dancing around and get on with it. You said you liked to play; let’s play.”

“Perhaps we have different definitions of play.” He tugged against the cuffs, and Moran laughed.

He pulled again, harder this time. “You’ve spelled them.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be any fun otherwise.” Moran stepped in front of Killian.

Damn, his arms were uncomfortable pulled behind his back, but he didn’t want to completely discourage the witch. There might be some fun if he just waited.

“I’m not without my own resources, Witch Master. I plan to give you what you need. Lots of it.” Moran began to pull the belt from his slim black trousers. Hmm. Killian held still. Maybe things were on the right track. He’d said he wanted sex….

Mrrrrr. Al growled in his ear. Killian looked up. Moran had folded his belt into a strap. What the blazing hell? He calmed his voice. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The pretty face grimaced. “I’m going to give you what we both need.” He raised the strap above his head. Fuck. Mrrrrrrrr. The growl decibel increased. Killian focused. Guess again, you ass.

Moran flew backward like a scarecrow in a windstorm. Wap! The strap ripped from his