Easy Bake Coven (6 page)

I hoped rather than believed Cheney didn’t know where I lived. I got out of the car as quickly as possible and opened the trunk. I picked up my one grocery bag and adjusted my purse so I could also grab the cat food. As soon as I had the bags, the trunk shut without me touching it.

“Need a hand?” Cheney’s voice came from behind me.

I turned toward him, adrenaline pumping through my veins as my body readied to dump everything and run, but all he did was take the bag of groceries from my arms.

“How do you appear out of nowhere? Are you magic?”

He cocked an eyebrow and shot me a half smirk that would’ve been ridiculously sexy if I didn’t hate him—and if he didn’t scare the crap out of me. “Shall we?”

I rolled my eyes but led him to the front door. “If I let you in, will you promise not to hurt me?” A fat lot of good a promise would do me, but having one would make me feel better at least.

 “If I wanted to hurt you, I already would’ve,
Selene
.”

The way my named rolled off his tongue sent chills down my spine. It was so familiar, yet completely terrifying. “So why are you here?”

He didn’t reply, only nodded toward the door.

“You didn’t promise,” I said stubbornly.

He looked up at the sky. “I promise harm will not come to Selene Warren this night by my hands. If it does, may the stars rain down fire upon me and may my flesh boil from my body for all eternity.” He looked back at me with a wicked smile. “Happy now?”

 “A simple ‘I promise’ would’ve been fine,” I muttered as I opened the door and flipped the light switch. In the kitchen Cheney placed the bag on the counter, then leaned against it and stared at me. Something swam underneath the surface of his calm gaze, but I couldn’t figure out what. He looked lean and dangerous—a predator watching its prey. I tried to ignore him and the nervous energy that swirled in my stomach as I ripped open the cat food bag and poured it into Stewie’s dish.

“Here kitty, kitty.” I had little hope of him showing up with a stranger in the house.

The sound of a phone vibrating practically sent me into cardiac failure. Cheney snickered and pulled my phone out of his pocket, obviously enjoying how jumpy I was.

 “Who’s Michael Christian?” he asked, an unfathomable expression on his face.

I met his gaze. He knew everything about my past but not that I’d been dating Michael. Very interesting. It didn’t take long for anger to find its way to the surface though. Was he looking through my phone? “None of your damn business. Give me back my phone.”

“He keeps calling. Rather desperate, don’t you think?”

I reached for my phone. He stretched his hand out of my reach. “Should I answer it?”

 “No! Just give me back my phone. You have no right.”

Cheney arched a brow, his finger hovering over the talk button.

“Michael is my boyfriend.” I flinched. “I mean fiancé.” Saying the new title out loud made my stomach flutter. It was going to take some getting used to. “Now for Pete’s sake, give it back.”

Cheney’s eyes hardened, all traces of teasing gone, and he stared at me as if I had just stabbed his mom. We spoke at the same time,

 “Why are you here?”

 “You have a
fiancé
?”

We had a standoff, of sorts, in the middle of my grandmother’s kitchen. The tension couldn’t have been hacked away with a chainsaw. It was as if every particle between us waited for something to ignite them. Stewie slithered around my legs. I broke eye contact with Cheney and scooped my cat off the floor. Stewie lounged in my arms like the fat orange hairball he was. He purred loudly and put a soft paw on my cheek. “How are you, pumpkin?“ I asked, glad to have a distraction from the strange man.

Cheney reached his hand toward Stewie.

“He doesn’t like strangers,” I tried to warn him, but he ignored me. I braced myself for the claws and panicked getaway, but Stewie didn’t object. He stayed perfectly content in my arms as Cheney petted him, purring even louder. The little traitor.

 “He likes me just fine.”

 “Well, at least one of us does.” I could feel Cheney’s eyes boring into me though I refused to look at him. He was standing too close. “Now tell me already—why exactly are you here?”

 “What’s your boyfriend like?” he countered.

 “Fiancé,” I corrected and he flinched. Curious. I was about to tell him Michael was big and strong and on his way over when the sound of glass breaking came from the living room. Cheney was gone in a flash. I dropped Stewie, and he bolted in the opposite direction. I ran into the living room to see what was going on.

Two men with black hair and all black clothing stood in front of Cheney.

“We’re not here for you,” one of the men said.

“Where is she?” growled the other.

My eyebrows pulled together. Did they not see me? Must have been distracted by Cheney…

 “Even if I knew, I wouldn’t let you lot have her.” Menace and the promise of pain to anyone who dared cross him saturated Cheney’s voice. The men lunged at Cheney as he pulled a small curved sword from the air. A few quick slashes and turns later, both men were on the ground, vital pieces spread all over the carpet. One by one the pieces evaporated.

I had been a witch long enough to hear the rumors about the Abyss. Stories circulated that the creatures who made up our fairy tales and nightmares lived there, but I never believed it. I was woefully unprepared for them to be in my grandmother’s house, and my brain struggled for a more practical explanation. I met Cheney’s annoyed expression when I looked up.

“Do you see why you need to stop playing games and listen?”

 “I’m not playing any games—”

“Like hell you aren’t. It has to stop, Selene.” He charged me, his face inches from mine.

“What sort of ‘game’ do you think I’m playing? I don’t know why you’re here, who you are, or what I could possibly have to do with any of this. Perhaps if you’d stop trying to scare me and tell me what you want, we could get somewhere.”

“Bullshit. I don’t know why I even bother.” He turned away and paced, tossing an occasional glance in my direction.

“God damn it, who are you? What are you doing here? Who were those men? How do you disappear and appear wherever you like? And what do you want with me?” Years of pent up anger suddenly raged through me. I clenched my fists at my side to keep from attacking him.

He frowned. “I’m Cheney.”

“Yes, you’ve told me that, but you act like I
know
you. I’ve never met you. Aren’t you listening to me at all?”

 “You most certainly do know me.”

“I’ve never seen you before in my life!” With this final shout, the wall to the left of Hunt cracked from floor to ceiling, and a tremor ran through the floor.
Oh shit.
I let myself get too worked up. The last time this happened was the night my parents died. I closed my eyes, trying to stop the energy coursing from my body. The sounds of glass shattering around me only set me more on edge. I couldn’t lose control, not again. My head throbbed with energy, power.

 “Look at me,” Cheney commanded softly.

I opened my eyes and met his. “Give me your hand,” he said in the same gentle tone.

The room was shaking, things were flying off the shelves, and everything made of glass had shattered. My head continued to pulse. I put my shaking hand into Hunt’s and sparks crackled the air where our skin met. The next instant I stood on the beach.

“Ground your energy, Selene.” Cheney’s voice was calm and patient as if he’d done this a thousand times.

I looked at him, not knowing what he was talking about.

“Touch the ground. Send your energy into the sand.”

I did as he told me, and my vision went dark. Then there was nothing.

I opened my eyes and I was lying in my bed, the moon shining peacefully into my room and Stewie curled into a ball on the pillow next to me. Thank God it was all a dream. I sat up, stretching my arms. What a weird—

My relief stuttered to an abrupt halt.

Cheney, all long, lean muscle and noble bone structure, leaned against the doorframe watching me. He wasn’t just handsome. In an unkempt, wild sort of way, he oozed sex appeal. His eyes darkened with interest when I looked at him.

No, it wasn’t just a dream. Not just a dream at all.

He came toward me like he was approaching a feral animal, doing everything in his power to appear non-threatening, which was impossible since every ounce of his being screamed hunter—just like his name. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“In my room.”

He nodded and sat on the edge of my bed. There was so much going on under the surface of his eyes, I couldn’t guess at what he was thinking. “You really don’t know me, do you?”

I shook my head, positive I’d never met him. He wasn’t someone I was likely to have forgotten. Again he was too close to me, and it was hard to breathe.

 “Do you want to?” he asked even softer than before.

I didn’t think I could speak, let alone answer that question. I continued to stare into his eyes, unblinking and drowning in their seas. Golden flakes I hadn’t noticed before sparkled in the green depths like sunshine playing on waves. The front door slammed. Cheney scowled.

“Stay here,” he commanded as if I were a soldier. A moment later he disappeared.

Of course I didn’t stay put. This was my house—well, my grandmother’s anyway—not his. I unwound from the covers and crept to the stairs, careful to avoid all of the squeaky boards.

“What a pleasant surprise.” A high voice with a faint accent I couldn’t place drifted up to me.

 “Meadow. Bella.” Cheney didn’t sound welcoming, and the two female voices that returned his greeting were equally chilly. “
Cheney
,” they said in unison.

“I have killed your scouts,” he continued. “She isn’t here. I’ll give you the opportunity to leave now or you’ll meet an equal fate.”

 “We have our orders.”

 “You can have her over my dead body.”

 “If it must be.”

 “It must.”

 “So be it.”

 “Whenever you’re ready.” I could nearly hear the smile tilting Cheney’s mouth.

 “We want to check the house.”

“No. The house is mine. Look elsewhere.”

“You have no claim.”

“And I say I do. If you care to challenge me, Meadow, I’ll happily end this all here and now.”

There was a long silence. I thought about moving in closer, but common sense stopped me. Cheney was protecting me from these people. The last thing I should do was alert them to my presence.

“I feel no one else here,” a different female voice stated.

“Another day, Prince.”

 “So be it,” he spoke in a similarly flat voice. The front door slammed shut, then footsteps behind me made me jump.

 “I told you to stay in your room,” Cheney growled, grabbing my arm with a self-satisfied smile.

“You did, but I don’t take orders from you.” I yanked my arm away from him, not liking the flush coming to my cheeks. “I thought you couldn’t touch me.”

 “I couldn’t, but you were obliging enough to break the barrier for me.”

 “I—what? How?”

 “You touched me.” He squeezed my hand, and my breath caught in my throat.

 “I most certainly did not.” As soon as the denial was out of my mouth, I remembered taking his hand when I was having my melt down. “You tricked me.”

 “That’s what I do best. It’s open season, princess.” He pressed his nose into my cheek and his lips brushed my face as he spoke, “I can touch you all I want now.”

My entire being burned from the inside out and my heart clamored loudly in my ears. I laid both hands flat against his chest and turned my head slightly toward him. He leaned in, eyes dancing with anticipation. I pushed him with all the strength I had in my body and mind.

He rocked back slightly, giving me enough room to dart down a couple steps and put distance between us. “I may have broken whatever barrier existed, but that was not an invitation. You stay away from me!” I ran down the stairs toward the front door, but Cheney materialized in front of me, blocking my escape.