Witch Blood - By Anya Bast Page 0,48
me, Thomas.”
His response was swift. “I think you do.”
“Whoa. What the hell?” Adam’s voice saved Isabelle from responding.
She and Thomas turned to see him standing about seven feet away from them. He’d gone stock still as he waved his hand in the air front of him.
Isabelle blinked. “Um, Adam?”
“There’s something strange about the air here. It feels…sticky.”
“Sticky?” She walked to him, followed by Thomas.
“Yeah. Like the air here has something in it, some kind of—”
“Magick?” Thomas asked.
Adam stepped back. “Feel it.”
Thomas stepped through the area that Adam had indicated. It was, Isabelle noted, very near where she’d seen the victims killed in the moisture memory. It may have been exactly where the two witches died, but she couldn’t be sure.
Thomas stopped and waved his arm. “Hmmm. It’s almost like this space is out of sync with the rest of the air around it.” He stepped to the side. “Isabelle?”
She stepped through. It was like walking through thick cobwebs. “It’s as if the molecules are vibrating slower than they should be. It feels like a warding, but not quite. More like a—”
“More like how a doorway to the demon dimension might open?”
“Maybe.” Isabelle licked her lips, her thoughts whirling. “In the moisture memory the demon said something…something about his victims having certain qualities he needed. I think he meant magickally.”
All three of them went silent.
“Are either of you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Adam finally. “Maybe this demon is trying to get back over the rainbow?”
Thomas rubbed his chin and sighed. “There’s no way to know for sure, but I’d say this is a decent find and a powerful clue. Maybe this demon is trying to go home. Maybe there’s some spell we don’t know about that will allow him to open a portal on this side.”
Isabelle glanced at the white sheets and tried to not go where her memories wanted to take her. Seemed she just kept collecting bad ones. “Some spell that requires a lot of blood magick.”
THEY ARRIVED BACK AT THE COVEN AT TWELVE PAST three in the morning after scouring the warehouse for every clue they could. There hadn’t been much. Isabelle leaned against the wall by the side of the door in the Coven’s dimly lit foyer and watched Adam and Thomas enter after her.
Both men looked tired and unkempt. So did she, but tired and unkempt looked a hell of a lot better on them than her. Adam’s hair was an inch too long and stuck up all over his head in spikes, and his jeans were worn tantalizingly thin in some places.
Thomas’s hair hung loose over his shoulders and dark stubble marked his jaw. He looked bed-mussed. He’d looked a lot like that after they’d made love, his eyes hooded and dark with lust. Remembering made her shiver.
“I’m going to bed. I’m so damned tired I can’t even think anymore,” mumbled Adam as he walked past.
“Night, Adam,” she mumbled back.
Thomas started to walk past her, toward the stairs. She reached out and touched his upper arm. He turned to look at her and she said, “You were right. Right about me not being as strong as I would like to think. Right about not being able to ask for help or let people in.” She shrugged. “I hate it, but you’re right.”
In response, Thomas only swept his arm around her waist and crushed her to his chest. His mouth came down on hers. Stubble rubbed the skin around her mouth, playing contrast to his warm exploring lips.
Isabelle didn’t have time to breathe, let alone object to the impulsive action. She wanted to, she really did, but the ability to push him away had died with a whimper as soon as he’d touched her.
She responded to his hot, urgent mouth without a flicker of hesitation. He demanded she part her lips to admit his tongue, but she was there first. She slanted her mouth across his and slid her tongue within to spar and stroke. His hand found the hem of her shirt and pushed beneath it, where he used skillful fingers to massage the tense muscles of her back. Her body let go of a degree of her tension with a shudder.
Brushing his lips languorously against hers for several moments, he broke the kiss and cupped her cheek. “Maybe you can practice on me.”
Isabelle stumbled back, feeling a little breathless. No man but Thomas had ever made Isabelle Novak feel breathless.
She swallowed hard and tried not to let uncertainty show in her eyes as