Monster (A Cassidy Edwards Novel - Book 1) (7 page)

But I ultimately made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes.

There was anger there. Irritation. But as I stared into them I saw something else hiding in the depths of those twin points of piercing blue-gray steel.

A gleam of interest?

All thoughts of amulets and imps fled as I fell deeper into his intense gaze.

A small voice in the back of my mind warned that he wasn’t someone to play with. He was dangerous. Primal. Untamed.

Enthralling.

He met my gaze steadily, making no move to evict me from his lap.

The power really did shift then—away from both of us.

For the briefest of timeless moments, I saw another side of him. A dark, smoky heat in his expression, one that made me catch my breath. One that promised a world I’d only caught the barest glimpses of, before hunger rose to control me.

His arm was still around me. I could feel his hard biceps against me. One of my legs was still tossed over his, but I didn’t possess the power to move it.

Neither did he.

His face was inches from mine. His bottom lip looked like it had been chiseled out of stone. And this close, I could smell him—not his mana—but his real skin. A spicy, musky scent. Cologne. Sweat.

My hand rested on his chest, cupped over his heart, and there was no heat this time, but there was still nothing for me to draw, to feed from. Not even the tiniest wee bit of a nip.

No, with him, it was something I’d never experienced before.

Pure, unadulterated attraction.

Abruptly, the timeless moment shattered as my inner-voice screamed in warning. 
Focus, Cassidy. You’ve gone too deep this time. Time to swim to shore.

The spell—if that’s what it was—broke.

I pulled away, but his grip tightened around my waist.

Several tense seconds passed before he shifted me closer with a hard arm. Dipping his head, he brushed his lips over the tip of my ear and warned, “You should know that I never let such petty things like personal feelings prevent me from achieving my goals, Cass.”

So, we were back to “Cass”? It was a bad sign. He evidently felt in control—not the result I’d been going for.

Apparently, Lucian wasn’t as easily distracted as other men.

With a twist of his arm, he maneuvered me back into my seat.

“Now, go bring that amulet and the imp,” he said calmly, setting his gaze straight ahead. “We’ll discuss the mission when we land.”

I rose swiftly to my feet.

I’d played this one wrong, but I never made the same mistake twice. I’d learned a valuable lesson.

Lucian was a conundrum and best avoided … at least until I found his weak spot.

A Highly Untrained Spell-finder

Heath snoozed under his magazine, but Tabitha followed my every move as I rummaged through the overhead bin for my suitcase. Of course, she’d been watching my shenanigans. Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, lust, or whatever you want to call it with Lucian, I’d forgotten her existence.

I still wasn’t used to the fact that I couldn’t smell any of them. I wanted to know why, but who could I ask?

I unzipped my suitcase with frustration. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with Lucian anymore, but I didn’t want to be fired in the first hour. I needed the job and just maybe his protection. At least for now.

Grabbing the imp bottle and the amulet, I returned to drop them into his lap.

He plucked them both from the air before they could even land.

Impressive. Reflexes like a vampire.

“Take a seat,” Lucian’s ordered with a gleam in his eye.

I did but with reluctance.

He noticed, because his smile turned into a smirk. Holding out a small crystal vial filled with a glowing yellow substance, he announced, “This is mana in its purest form.”

My interest perked up at once. I practically drooled. I hadn’t eaten all day. But then a mixture of skepticism and fear washed over me. Skepticism that it was mana, but also fear that it was, and that I’d truly lost the ability to smell it.

But then he opened the vial, and a nice, familiar scent wafted my way on a current of air.

Nice.

Not great.

“It’s just good. Not really pure,” I observed. I’d had better. In fact, if I’d had a chance to taste 
him
—now that would have been mana in its purest form.

I looked up to see a dark expression descend over his face.

Touchy.

“Use it sparingly,” he informed me coldly as he dribbled some of the mana into my amulet.

He held it out, dangling the chain on the end of his finger.

Mana. I’d never seen it isolated before. And it was such a tiny amount. How could one use 
that
 sparingly? It was like receiving a thimbleful when I needed at least a cup. Even so, it was all I could do to keep from snatching it out of his hand and siphoning it as fast as I could. A thimbleful was better than nothing.

He jiggled his fingers impatiently. “Take it,” he said with a deepening scowl. “Overdosing once is one time too many. I don’t keep users in my employment.”

I wanted to laugh. How could anyone overdose on mana—especially in such microscopic amounts? He was acting as if it were a drug. But he looked completely serious, so ignoring my hunger pains, I nodded and tucked the amulet into my boot, next to my knives.

It was an approved response. Guess I was catching on.

He turned his attention to the imp bottle then, twirling it slowly around to read the inscription carved along the base.

It was hard to concentrate. Smelling the mana had made me realize just how hungry I was. I could still smell it in the amulet. It was a form of mild torture.

“This one will be difficult,” Lucian commented, frowning a little as he returned the imp bottle. “Open it.”

Hmmmm. Open the bottle of a notably difficult imp on a plane? It didn’t sound like such a bright idea.

He leveled an irritated gaze on me. “I have things to do, spell-finder. Open the bottle, bond with the imp, and then introduce me. He needs to know who he works for before we land.” He waited a moment before adding in a blistering tone, “As do 
you
, 
evidently
.”

I would have snapped a response but his words had distracted me a little. Bond with an imp? How was that done? Did I feed it? Pet it? Bribe it? Let it know who was boss? I didn’t care what Lucian said. I wasn’t going to open the bottle right then.

“It’s a rehabilitee,” I began.

But somehow, my finger brushed the cork, and it popped right off.

I tensed, preparing myself, but nothing happened. No poof of genie smoke. No fairy sparkles. Nothing crawled out.

Good. That was a relief.

I’d say it was empty, pop the cork back on and get myself to the back of the plane for the rest of the trip. It was becoming critical now. I absolutely 
had
 to figure out what these Charmed people were all about and just exactly what a spell-finder was expected to do before I was caught in my impersonation, tossed out, and stripped of my first real chance at getting my revenge against Emilio.

Tipping the bottle to the side and giving it a shake, I said, “Looks empty. Oh well.”

Did I catch a gleam of genuine amusement in Lucian’s irritatingly gorgeous eyes?

I sent him a dazzling smile just to throw him off-guard—he raised a curious brow—and then I said, “Well, maybe it escaped into my suitcase. I’ll go take a look.”

I made one last show of peering into the bottle—and almost dropped it as two glowing eyes blinked back up at me. Alarmed, I drew back. Suddenly not caring what anyone thought—even Lucian—I hurried to cork the bottle.

But it was too late.

Two little black hands pushed the cork back out each time I tried.

After about the fifth time of the cork-popping game, Lucian commented coolly, “Interesting imp-bonding technique.”

He was laughing at me. I could see the smug superiority silently oozing out of him.

“It’s reserved for rehabilitees,” I rejoined sourly.

Finally, the cork shot out a final time, bouncing off the cabin ceiling to roll under the seats. And then the imp crawled out.

He was one of those ugly-but-cute kind of creatures. You couldn’t really make up your mind. There was hardly any substance to him—I guess that’s why I could only detect the barest hint of a trace of mana coming from him. He looked like he was made of dark smoke, standing about eight inches tall, big ears, scrawny neck, body, and feet. His mouth was his biggest feature.

“Well, hello there, doll,” he addressed me in a Cockney accent. He stretched and, folding his hands behind his back, began to pace around the lip of the bottle. “What’s with slamming the cork on my head, eh?”

Doll? “Doll” was worse than “Cass”. I scowled. “Cassidy,” I said. “My name is Cassidy.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he said, giving me a cheesy, utterly insincere grin that showed two large rows of teeth. “My name’s Richard Thaddeus Mavromoustafakis, but just call me Ricky, love. Ricky’ll do fine.” He gave a laugh—a highly irksome, nasal, grating kind of laugh.

We were interrupted by a growl, followed by a spitting hiss. Lucian’s cat had leapt to its feet, its ears pinned down flat against its skull as its eyes zeroed in on Ricky sitting cross-legged on the edge of his bottle.

“Oh my, pleasure to see you again, Esmeralda.” Ricky gave a fake grin that only showcased his teeth.

At that, Lucian arched a discerning brow at his cat. “You’ve met?” he asked in his deep baritone.

Esmeralda rubbed her chin along the top of his head. Apparently, only Lucian could hear what the cat said in reply. Whatever it was, Lucian sent Ricky a look of outright displeasure.

The imp’s demeanor changed at once. Jumping to the armrest, he prostrated himself before Lucian like a Japanese Samurai before the Emperor and whispered, “Please, allow me to thank you for the honor of serving under your lordship. I am forever, most faithfully your servant and your servant alone. My loyalties lie with no other than yourself, the Great Lord Lucian Rowle.”

So, I had a kiss-up for an imp.

I couldn’t read Lucian’s expression as he eyed Ricky. I was just glad that he waved us both away in an almost weary tone. “Enough. Be gone.”

Grabbing Ricky and his bottle, I escaped to my seat. The moment I arrived, Tabitha left to join Lucian. I watched the back of their heads pressed close together and felt a ripple of annoyance.

It had to be annoyance; it couldn’t be anything else.

“Jealous, eh?” Ricky snickered as I propped my feet onto the seat opposite me.

“Enough out of you,” I said. “Remember who’s boss here and you won’t get hurt.”

He was supposed to be 
my
 imp, after all.

But from the looks of him grinning at me, sitting on the top of his bottle and dangling his legs over the edge, he looked like a mini-demon, or the proverbial genie out of a bottle, who made sure all of your wishes came back to bite you.

He didn’t respond. He just sat there chuckling in his distinctly aggravating way.

He looked like just a wisp of smoke. Intrigued, I waved my hand through him and discovered that he 
was
 just smoke. Well, most of him. The grin and the eyes remained even though the rest of him dissipated in all directions.

But he didn’t stay scattered for long. It only took a moment for the smoke to coalesce back into his scrawny eight-inch shape.

“Hoighty-toighty, love,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s up, eh? Never seen an imp before?”

I made up my mind right then. Ricky was irritating, plain and simple.

I was going to ditch him as soon as I could, and I didn’t really care what Lucian thought. Either Ricky was the only imp Lucian could afford, or I’d been deliberately saddled with him as retribution for insulting the warlock’s illustrious heritage. Or both.

Either way, I had real things to do. I wasn’t in the mood to babysit.

“Back in the bottle,” I ordered, making a grab for him.

He made all kinds of squeaking, grunting noises, and kept slipping between my fingers as I tried to stuff him back in. It was like trying to pour smoke into a vase.

Impossible.

“Umph. Errp. Enough!” The imp sputtered as my hand clamped down over his head. His ears popped up through my fingers, followed by an eyeball.

With a growl of frustration, I gave up.

Ricky flattened his ears and glared at me.

I glared back.

So much for bonding.

After a minute, he relaxed and gave me another fake, cheesy grin. I much preferred the ear-flattening to the insincerity staring up at me.

“So, you’re a spell-finder,” he said, pretending to care. “Nice gig, that.”

I glowered at him. “How do I get you back in your bottle?” I asked.

He laughed—his adenoidal laugh. But at the expression on my face, he faltered and did a double take.

“Blimey,” he said. “You’re really asking.”

I continued to glower.

His eyes widened and then he snorted in disgust. “
Has it really come to this?
 I’ve been paired with a
rookie
?” His voice ended in a screech of outrage.

I jerked, glancing quickly at the back of Lucian’s head to make sure he hadn’t heard as I clamped my hand over the imp’s mouth.

Or tried to. He was just a puff of smoke, after all.

“You’re nothing special yourself, imp,” I retorted.

He watched me with narrowed, cunning eyes. “I see,” he began to mutter. “I see. I seee.”

I’d really had enough. Not caring what anyone thought, I grabbed the amulet from my boot, and prying it open, placed my hand palm down and consumed it. It was hardly anything. For a human, it would be like eating a single Goldfish cracker after competing in a triathlon.

“I seeee,” Ricky snickered as he hopped off his bottle and onto my knee. “You’ve got yourself into quite a pickle, doll.”

I slapped my hand over my knee, but he escaped through my fingers and reemerged above my hand.

“We can make this work, love,” he eagerly whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Help each other out. That sort of thing.”

So, he was an eight-inch version of the devil. “Not likely,” I snapped.