Enforcer Ensnared

E
NFORCER
E
NSNARED

Elizabeth
Lapthorne

Dedication

Dedicated
with love to Kelli and
Becca
—two amazing editors,
magnificent ladies and wonderful friends <3

Bradley McKinnon
Worthington IV—Blade to his friends and associates—had always liked playing
with fire. The flickering flame of a candle had held a deep, mesmerizing appeal
since his youngest years. It didn’t come as too much of a surprise, therefore,
when he found himself thoroughly entranced by Angelina Harling—a witch with the
well-deserved nickname of Flame.

He’d felt amused when
they had been paired up on a “temporary” assignment for the Enforcers. He’d
been intrigued when they had stood back-to-back and fought fiercely as a team,
instinctively working with the cohesion and trust usually reserved for only the
longest of working partnerships.

And finally he’d been
forced to concede in the deepest, darkest corner of his heart a large chunk of
his emotions had become ensnared by this intoxicating witch. He’d watched her
remain in a building set to detonate, his heart hammering fit to burst from his
chest.
Ange
didn’t have some latent death wish. Her
choice had stemmed purely from the honorable determination to watch the back of
Blade’s usual partner, Sage Barrington.

Not only had
Ange’s
team fidelity solidified the burgeoning emotions
he’d been studiously avoiding acknowledging, but her decision had reaffirmed
his trust and admiration for her professional style.

“Do you think the new
crew is working well?” Blade asked, genuinely curious whether her impressions
would coincide
with his own
.
Ange
was helping him to dry the dishes from their dinner. She considered his
question for a moment before answering.

“If anyone had told me a
few months ago that there would be a task force combining Enforcers and human
police I’d have written it off as a joke,” she replied. “Mages almost never
work within human companies—we’ve always kept to the shadows and slipped in
under the radar, segregating ourselves and sticking to other wizards. Enforcers
have never worked in conjunction with the police and to be honest if I hadn’t
seen for myself how well our new crew is doing I’d have never believed it.”

“That’s why they’re
calling this a new initiative,” Blade laughed.
Ange
flicked his arm with the dish towel.

“Smartass,” she chided.
He waited patiently while
Ange
pursed her lips,
seemingly in thought. “Yes, I think the team is working very well together. No
one could deny it. In a few weeks we’ve uncovered more information than the
Enforcers have by themselves in months. Now we know a lot more about this new
drug hitting the streets and killing kids. I think that’s a testament to how
well we’ve meshed our skills together.”

“And you only had to blow
up a building to achieve it,” he teased.

“I didn’t set those
explosives,”
Ange
said dismissively. “Sadly, I wasn’t
responsible for that lovely explosion.”

“You and Sage risked your
lives so we could recover the contents of the laboratory.” Blade dropped the
towel on the bench and cupped
Ange’s
jaw. He stared
into her beautiful eyes and tried to not think of the freezing terror that had
encompassed him as she bought their team time. “I’ve trained with weapons my
whole life long. It was…
uncomfortable
to realize earlier that none of
that was any help to you.”

Ange
laughed,
a
soft sound that wrapped around his heart and made him warm.

“You’re a master of
steel—there’s not a wizard within the entirety of the Enforcers who would want
to enter into genuine combat with you. I’ve heard there isn’t a blade created
that you haven’t trained with—I’ve always wondered if that was the truth or
whether it was just a story.”

Blade grinned and
remained silent. To his knowledge the rumor was, in fact, truth. He’d spent
most of his life honing his skills as a fighter and was justifiably proud of
them. Years ago he’d learned to keep quiet on such matters. Rumors of his
actions spread far more quickly than boasts, no matter how honest.

“I’m quite fond of my
chosen name,” he replied in a low tone. “‘Blade’ is far more comfortable upon
my shoulders than the ridiculous moniker I was christened with.”

Ange
chuckled, dropped her tea towel and
turned to face him. Leaning back on the bench, he drank in the vision she made.
Her hair fell in long dark-brown waves past her
shoulders,
her lithe body was sleekly muscled. As they were technically off duty and had
no plans to leave his home, her sunglasses were folded on the bench and Blade
could stare for as long as he wanted into the depths of her darkly blue eyes—a
rare
treat
.

The potency of
Ange’s
magical powers manifested itself in senses naturally
far greater than those of most Mages. Her sight in particular was extremely
sensitive. She almost always had her sunglasses on to protect herself. She
smiled at him with those beautiful full lips and Blade realized—yet again—that
he was staring at the witch who was quickly capturing him heart and soul.

“With a name like Blade
you’re lucky you ended up as an Enforcer and not an accountant,” she teased.
“I’m not sure many firms would like to introduce their clients at tax time to
Blade.”

“I’d known my path since
my teens.” He laughed. “Nothing on earth could have convinced me to go into the
family business—no matter how steeped in tradition it was or how many
generations of my forefathers had gone before me.”

He paused for a moment to
grapple with the words, but then realized
Ange
would
completely understand. Few others could comprehend how satisfying it was to be
an Enforcer. Blade had eagerly and hungrily embraced the calling, not only as a
way to hone and expand his skills as a warrior, but also to sate a deep-seated
need to protect.

In his fellow Enforcers,
he had found companions who supplanted his unloving and unbending family.
Standing side by side or back-to-back with these men and women nurtured Blade’s
soul.

More importantly, Blade
craved those missions where he and Sage and their team could protect the
innocent. Safeguarding those who couldn’t defend themselves, even after all
these years, was still a driving passion, as was his love of making his steel
sing in his hands.

Ange
grinned sassily at him, her pouting
lips calling to him like the sweetest of songs. Blade closed the distance
between them, wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her body to his. Their
gazes clashed and he let this electric moment draw out. His body grew tight and
hot, the weight of knowledge resting like a living thing between them. The
certainty that he was about to taste her lips, the anticipation of what her
hands would feel like running over his naked flesh. Hunger grew within him
until he could no longer hold back.

Bending his head, he
pressed their lips together, kissing her passionately.

She moaned and opened her
mouth to him. Eagerly, he plunged his tongue within her, loving her intimate
taste. His hands roamed her back then smoothed down over her shirt to her hips,
finally settling to cup
Ange’s
ass. Rising onto her
tiptoes, she pressed against his body, and Blade groaned at the heat that
seared him. His shaft hardened as lust spiked through him, the feel of her
supple curves injecting a heady dose of desire through his blood.

“The bedroom,” he
muttered thickly, words almost beyond him as his need ratcheted higher.

“Race you there, lover,”
Ange
teased him. Her voice was soft, her eyes dark-blue as
her pupils had dilated. Blade watched as she removed her shirt and stepped out
of her pants, the lacy dark bra-and-panty set stealing his breath.

Ange
turned, her hair swirling around her
head in dark waves as she sashayed out of the room and headed down the
corridor. Blade took a moment to gulp and try to get hold of his control. She’d
been to his house a few times in the past, though they’d never made it to the
bedroom before, but he didn’t doubt for a moment she knew exactly where it was.

He needed a second to
calm his racing heart. Although
Ange
had laughed, he
felt certain more lay in the depths of her gaze than mere lust and favorable
circumstance between them.

In their short time
together she had never spoken about anything resembling permanence in their
sexual arrangement. Blade still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around just how
much this witch now meant to him either, but he knew he would fight furiously
to keep hold of her. She had settled deeply into his heart and soul. He
couldn’t possibly let her go. Despite that absolute knowledge, neither was he
ready to open himself to possible rejection by speaking his feelings aloud.

“Blade?”
Ange
called from down the hall.

“You’re a fool, man,” he
cursed himself. In seconds he’d stripped, and he strode purposefully to his
bedroom. It was never wise to keep a witch waiting, especially not one as
beautiful, talented and sexy as his lady.

His bedroom was mostly
dark, the shades pulled closed and only a few candles lit to cast a weak glow
around his king-size bed. His eyes strained for a moment to adjust. Naked, his
erect shaft eagerly pressed against the flat plane of his lower belly, he
watched his lover in the flickering light. Seeming unconscious of how sexy the
movement was, she tilted her head to smile at him. One hand flicked her long
hair over her shoulder, the faint red highlights shining in the candlelight.

“Oh, babe,” he muttered.
A tiny drop of pre-cum wept from his slit.

Ange
looked decadent and gorgeous as she
sat in the middle of his enormous bed. She had stripped out of the sexy
lingerie and her pale skin gleamed, almost luminescent in the darkness. Without
any conscious thought he crossed the room and climbed up next to her.

They wrapped their arms
around each other and he kissed her passionately once again. He probed within
her mouth and their tongues tangled. He fisted one hand through the silky
softness of her hair, loving the way the waves fell over his digits. She cupped
his cheek and tilted her head. Their kiss deepened until
Ange
pulled back, panting.

She ran her long, slender
fingers over his arm and down his muscled chest. Her pale fingers captured his
attention, their lightness in stark contrast to the dark-chocolate color of his
skin.
Ange
hummed her approval of his thickly corded
pectorals as the pads of her fingers played over his chest. The tone of his
form was visual evidence of the years he’d spent on training and exercise.