Hex Appeal (25 page)

Nick watched Jazz as a red-polished nail outlined her areola, then lightly scored her skin, leaving the faintest of pink lines behind before fading to nothingness. Nick couldn't keep his eyes off her activity when all he wanted was to rear up and bury himself inside her. He didn't think she could torture him any more until she ran her finger down her middle and further down to slide between her lips, lightly touching his cock at the same time. When she held the digit up the skin was shiny with her juices.

“You just may have found a way to kill me,” he said hoarsely.

“Then what a way to go.” She ran her finger across his lips. His tongue flicked out to lap up what she left behind. As he did that, Jazz lightly raked her nails down his chest until she reached the place he wanted her to touch, but as if reading his thoughts she veered away, gently running her nails back up his chest.

“You have always been the only one for me,” Nick admitted.

“You existed many years before we first met,” Jazz murmured, showing a vulnerability she rarely revealed.

“And no one has ever affected me the way you do.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “My existence is whole with you.”

She exhaled a soft “oh!” “Damn it, Nick, if you make me cry!” She punched him in the chest but without any heat or anger.

“Then only cry in pleasure,” he whispered in her ear, combing his fingers through the crisp coppery hair until he reached his goal. She was wet and plump with desire.

Nick closed his eyes, allowing all the heat of desire to race through him as Jazz moved her lower body against his erection.

Just as Nick was positive he would implode from all the sensation rolling through his body, Jazz lifted up as he bore down. He felt himself swell even more as she swiveled her hips and rocked back and forth slower than he would have liked. Normally he would have wanted nothing more than to grab her by the hair to kiss her senseless as he fucked her into another century. But he'd seen another side of Jazz. One she rarely allowed to be seen. His hexy witch needed romance. He slowed his movements, dropping his head to nuzzling her ear, stroking her lips with his tongue, and murmuring compliments.

“Do you know how good you feel to me?” he murmured, grazing his teeth over her throat. The fact that she allowed him without threatening dire consequences if he broke the skin told him how trusting she had become that night. He moved his hips in a lazy rhythm.

“Maybe as good as you feel to me? All hard but covered with this velvety skin. I can already feel the tremors begin inside me,” she said. So could Nick as he felt her inner muscles tighten around him. He only hoped she'd come soon or he'd definitely go up in flames. He groaned as a fire seemed to build up inside him. She chuckled. “Hmm, my very own vamp vibrator.”

“Let's talk about how good you feel to me.” Maybe he could survive if he did some talking of his own. “Wet and tight. Hot molten...” his words were cut off as her mouth covered his with a kiss that was even more stirring than the previous one. Heat poured off her body and mouth turning her into a witchy furnace that threatened to incinerate him. Flames he would gladly welcome as long as Jazz was a part of it.

Nick felt the tension overtake his body and knew it wouldn't be long. But before that could happen, Jazz laughed softly and slid out from under him and flipped around to kneel by his thigh. Nick cursed in Russian at the untimely interruption until Jazz leaned down and covered his cock with her mouth.

Nick closed his eyes as he dug his fingers into Jazz's hair as her mouth moved up and down on his cock. It was a feeling he couldn't have described if his existence depended on it. He felt her warm fingers cradle his sac, rolling the velvety skin between her fingers. He lay there and allowed himself to just
feel.

Before he knew it he felt the familiar tightening of his lower body and knew it wouldn't be long before he would be lost to his body.

“Not this way,” he whispered, pulling her up and over him to settle on his cock. With a desperation that echoed his own, she nibbled on his lips and quickened her movements until he felt his orgasm tear through him.

It wasn't until he finished that he realized he could once again move. Jazz stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. She returned with a damp cloth and cleansed him.

When she stood up she smiled down on him. ”Your ego doesn't need to inflate anymore by my telling you what a fantastic lover you are and everything you mean to me,” she said softly. “But you know me. I don't want to think that Angelica can mess with our lives. And especially mess with you. So if you ever keep something like that from me again I will bite it off,” she informed him.

Nick winced. He had no doubt she would do it, too.

“Come on, Jazz. It's an easy job for tonight and since it's last minute I'm charging a double rate,” Dweezil told her before she could barely get out a hello. “I've got a high-profile client who wants you to pick her up at her house at ten and take her to the Velvet Trap.” He mentioned a vampire club that was so exclusive it was not only filled with higher echelon members, but membership was by invitation only. He then rattled off an address in Holmby Hills, one of the priciest neighborhoods in L.A. “I got a great deal on a Bentley, so you'll be taking that. But if you get even a tiny scratch on it, it's coming out of your pay.”

Jazz jotted down the address. “I'm driving a vampire?” They were her least favorite clients since they tended to get fangy after they partied for a while. And vampires didn't like witches what with their blood being poisonous, so it wasn't as if they could snack on the driver. She also found them lousy tippers. “Who's the client, Dweezil?” She frowned as she heard the dial tone. “If he's hanging up before he tells me who she is then it's not a good thing. Or he knows it won't make me happy. I opt for both options.”

But the idea of her share of the double fee kept her from calling Dweezil back and telling him she couldn't do it because she had to wash her hair.

When she arrived at the garage that evening, she found more than the usual number of dwarves bustling around several new limos in the bays.

“Hey, Kurdilir, I thought you were working for Mindy,” she said, greeting the lead mechanic who walked up to her with a slight waddle on his short legs.

“I was, but her old man laid us all off,” he grumbled, shifting from one short leg to the other like a mini Sumo wrestler. “He said if he's giving work to anyone it'll be his own kind. Seems Santa laid off a bunch of his elves, so Eilemar hired them. Yeah, like a bunch of toymakers know how to change a tire or bleed brakes. Asshole will be out of business in no time.” His slightly pushed in features scrunched up even more. “Dweezil heard what happened and offered us our jobs back.”

“Please don't tell me you took less pay.” She knew her skinflint of a boss only too well. If Dweezil thought he could get a bargain he'd take it in a heartbeat.

He shook his head. “The guys who stayed behind weren't doing all that good a job, so he was glad to have us back, so I fought for an increase for all of us and actually got it. The only thing he'll admit he doesn't know is how to service a car, so he'll pay if he wants the vehicles in perfect running order. He purchased a few new vehicles from a police auction.” He gestured toward a champagne colored Bentley that gleamed like a rare pearl under the lights. “She's ready to go, gorgeous. The bar's stocked with plenty of AB neg.”

Jazz still hated that she'd be driving a vampire. But the idea of driving the luxury car was overriding any apprehension to do with her unknown client.

She looked toward the office and found the interior lights on dim. She'd already noticed that Dweezil's Jag was noticeably absent from his slot in the garage.

“He said he had an errand to run.” Kurdilir noticed the direction of her gaze.

“Uh huh, and I bet he left five minutes before I arrived. The coward. Is Grevia still working here?”

The dwarf shook his head. “Some vendor came in and totally freaked out when two of her fingers fell off. Seems there's some zombie support group that will help them find peace, so he sent her there. He hasn't hired anyone new yet. That's not making him too happy since he doesn't like dealing with people.”

“No kidding.” She caught the keys Kurdilir tossed toward her and headed for the Bentley. “Say, would you guys mind washing the T-Bird while I'm gone?”

Kurdilir's face broke out in a broad grin. Unlike many of the drivers, Jazz shared her tips with the mechanics and even paid them to hand wash and detail the classic car.

“You know I hate those little perverts doing unspeakable things to me!” Irma wailed from the passenger seat.

“Ignore her,” Jazz told Kurdilir as she tossed him her key ring.

He grinned. “No problem there. It's the dog who's hard to ignore. He tries humping us.”

“He seems to do that a lot.” Jazz sketched him a salute and took off for the Bentley with Irma's protests and the dog's barks ringing in her ears.

“Finally, D did something right.” She settled into the heated leather seat with a blissful sigh. She familiarized herself with all the bells and whistles then took off.

Jazz enjoyed driving through Holmby Hills since it boasted some of the most exclusive pieces of real estate in the state. While she had no desire to live in the elite area, she liked visiting.

“I wonder if the celebrities around here know they have a vampire in their midst or if they consider it part of the charm? Maybe it makes the property values go up,” she muttered, slowing down to identify herself at the gate guarding the home then rolling through as the gate slowly slid back. She parked in front of an antebellum-style mansion that could have been transplanted from the Old South. “Wow, Scarlett O'Hara goes west.” She climbed out of the limo and climbed the stairs to the front door. Elegant carriage lamps on either side of the double doors flickered as if lit by candlelight instead of electricity.

“I'm from All Creatures Car Service,” she told the stone-faced butler who answered the door and she could have sworn his face literally was made from stone.

He merely inclined his head and gestured for her to enter. “Madam is in the drawing room.” He indicated she follow him.

Jazz was surprised since the client was usually ready to go when she arrived or complained that Jazz was late even if she was early. Vampires had no sense of time except for their own idea of what it should be.

The minute she stepped into the drawing room she realized just why Dweezil hadn't given her the name of the client. He had to have known Jazz wouldn't drive her anywhere but to the local landfill.

The woman stood amid eighteenth-century antiques that suited the Southern mansion exterior. Her dress, however, was pure twenty-first century with a slit in the neckline that reached her waist and hinted at the full swell of pale-skinned breasts. She wore a deep purple velvet figure-hugging gown that Jazz would have killed for, except she knew a hole in the dress where the non-beating heart resided would totally ruin the fabric. Still, she liked the idea of planting a stake in this creature's heart and then she'd just shop and find the same gown. The vampire's long nails were polished a matching purple that glowed almost black in the dim light. At the moment her fingertips rested on a rare Lalique kneeling nude figurine, a gold ring with a red black opal winking on her right hand. A pendant was the same color.

The woman with burnished golden hair that flowed down to her waist in loose waves stood barely five-foot-one, but the power that radiated from her was strong enough to push Jazz back a step. The witch focused on keeping herself grounded because no way was she going to allow this particular vampire to push her around.

“Good evening, Jazz.” Her accented voice that boasted of European roots was lyrical, pure music to the hearer's ears, and complemented a face that rivaled a seraph's. Her eyes matched the rare red and black opal she wore with its shades of black, red, gold, and blue in its unlimited depths. While the uncommon stone held fire, Jazz only saw coldness in the woman's eyes. A vampire who lost all traces of humanity centuries ago. If she even had any to begin with.

“Angelica.” Jazz ignored the ball of ice that formed in the pit of her stomach. While there was more than its share of animosity between the witch and vampire society, there were still rules that had to be followed. One of them was that Jazz was prevented from bringing up a whopping big fireball, so she could put the bloodsucking bitch's lights out.

Well, she could do that, but there'd be Hades to pay and her present year's probation with the Witches' Council had more than six months left to go.

Damn it!

“I understand you're going to The Velvet Trap,” she said, keeping her voice as formal and remote as she could even if fury filled her to the marrow.

“Yes, I am.” The vampire's dark eyes studied her as if she was an insect under a microscope. Probably not all that far from wrong either since Angelica considered the entire world her own private hunting ground.

“Congratulations on advancing to the position of director.” The words tasted like ashes in her mouth. Miss Manners would be proud of her since it was the last thing she wanted to say when
die bitch die
was more to the point. “I understand after the death of Flavius, the previous director felt it was time to step down and you were there to take over. How fortuitous.”

Angelica smiled as if there was no implied insult in Jazz's words. “Thank you. I know you don't mean it, but I appreciate that you are gracious enough to offer the words. Yes, with Flavius gone it's been a very sad and trying time for so many of us. Vincent's power was weakening and he felt it was time to take a much needed rest.”

Jazz didn't bother to return the smile. Good manners only went so far and she was pretty much at the end of her rope.

“If you're ready to leave,” she said, wanting out of the house that she imagined smelled of death even if all she detected was the rich scent of gardenias.

Angelica moved with a sinuous grace she must have been born with, although a few thousand years can give one a lot of practice.

Jazz once heard a rumor that Angelica had been one of Cleopatra's most trusted handmaidens. Jazz figured she was the one to hand the Egyptian queen the deadly asp, if not actually press it to her breast. Maybe not even at the queen's direction. Jazz wouldn't put anything past the vampire.

Angelica stood very still, watching Jazz. The witch was glad she'd dressed accordingly in tailored black fine wool pants, a cream colored silk tuxedo styled shirt, and a black wool jacket. She had pulled her hair back in a French braid, threading a black silk ribbon through the braid. She'd left the stilettos home and opted for black half boots. Now she wished she was wearing something more lethal.

Angelica moved past with the glide inherent in vampires. The stone-faced butler stood by the door with a black velvet hooded cape in his hands. She allowed him to drape it over her shoulders then waited as he opened the door for her. She swept out of the house with the grace of a queen. Jazz followed feeling more like the court jester.

Jazz released a sigh of relief once the passenger door was closed behind Angelica, who was ensconced in the backseat with a Waterford wine glass of AB neg in her hand.

She realized her luck wasn't holding when the privacy window was lowered.

“Is there something you need, Angelica?” she asked politely, the perfect chauffeur.

“No, but since it is just me back here I thought I'd leave it down and we could chat. It's so rare for me to find someone who has the strength to do what you have done. You don't mind, do you?”

“No, of course not.” She was positive her nose grew a good half-inch. She decided this was a lie best said rather than the truth she would have preferred spouting. The last person she'd want to chat with was the monster sitting in the backseat.

“You were quite the heroine in saving our kind at Clive Reeves' mansion several months ago,” Angelica said, running her fingertip along the rim of her wine glass. “I understand you also returned to the property to cleanse it.”

Jazz's stomach tightened at the memory of the night she came way too close to losing her life. Along with that memory was a quick replay of her dream where she and Nick were the shades haunting the property and Reeves still lived. “It had to be done,” she replied. “I don't think anyone wanted him to return and harm more vampires. Also his destroying a member of your council couldn't have endeared him to you. I understand Flavius was respected by many.” She felt a bit of satisfaction when she saw Angelica's lips tighten. Proof that the vampire and Flavius, who truly cared about his kind, must have been at odds for some time.

“Yes, but I can't imagine any witch who would be so foolhardy as to brave Clive's lair even with the prospect of ending up in his dungeon as you had. You were very lucky you weren't killed in the process.” Her musical laughter was off by just a hair. The tone was enough to set Jazz's teeth on edge.

Ending up in his dungeon.
Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. “Yes, well, some of us don't like bullies.” She felt her head and jaw aching with the tight rein she kept on her temper.

“A bully is only a coward who needs to be shown who's really in charge.” Angelica sat back and crossed her legs, revealing a pale expanse of leg up to her thigh. “That is why every society needs an alpha. I've always believed our sex is much stronger than the males. That we know how to run things properly.”

Like you?
Jazz exhaled a deep breath. She was positive by the time the evening was over, she'd have a massive migraine. For a witch who rarely suffered a headache, lately she was sure making up for it.

Ending up in his dungeon.
The words rolled over in her head as she drove through Beverly Hills until she pulled up in front of a modernistic building built in the 1930s with
The Velvet Trap
written in stylized script on the canopy that led to the street. A valet ran forward and opened the rear passenger door.

“Return for me at four and not one moment earlier or later,” Angelica instructed without looking at Jazz, now relegating her to nothing more than a servant.

“In case you change your mind and wish to leave earlier just call the car service number and press Star 6. That will page me,” she said, keeping her eyes forward.

“I'm sure I won't.”