Protector (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 5) (18 page)

Did he mean anything by that? Caitlin wasn’t sure, and she definitely wasn’t about to ask. “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll go ahead and start getting ready. You don’t mind if I take over the bathroom for a bit?”

“No,” he said, and then paused, gazing down at her. She tried not to flinch and look away, but it was hard. Those dark eyes seemed to be piercing right through her, seeing the crazy thoughts that had passed through her mind during the drive here. He continued, in a much different tone, “Thank you for telling me all that. About your writing, I mean. I think it’s an amazing thing you’re doing.”

Her mouth went dry. How was she supposed to reply to that? Tell him she thought he was pretty amazing, too? Finally, she managed, “Thanks.”

The word should have fallen flat, but he seemed to ignore how woefully inadequate it really was, and instead moved closer to her. Without truly understanding how it had happened, she felt his hands holding hers, pulling her closer to him. And then he was bending down, those strong, full lips of his touching her mouth, kissing her, making her open to him so she could taste him once again.

Something in her seemed to break, and melt, and she was pressed against him, feeling his body on hers, one of his hands reaching up to run through her loose hair. The kiss deepened, and then he was picking her up and carrying her to the nearest bed, only a few feet away from where they’d be standing by the window. His weight was on her, and his hands moving up under her top, warm against her flesh.

A moan escaped her lips, and that seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. He pushed her shirt up even further, fumbled with the front hook of her bra. Then it was loose, and it wasn’t just his hands on her, but his mouth as well, trailing feathery kisses up her stomach until at last he closed on her breast, suckling, and then she cried out even more, her fingers caught in his thick dark hair as she held him against her.

It wasn’t the first time she’d gone this far, but it had never felt like this before. Warm, heavy pulses of desire flooded through her, heat growing between her legs.

“Oh, Goddess,” she murmured.

He undid the button of her jeans, then pulled down the zipper. And then he was reaching down to stroke her, while she had to practically bite her lip from crying out at the sheer ecstasy of his touch, that strong finger caressing her right where she wanted it the most. The waves of heat grew stronger, and she felt it building in her, knew he was going to make her come right then and there.

Which she did, clinging to him as the orgasm flooded through her, blood surging through every limb and to her fingers and toes. Her head fell back against the pillow, and she gasped for air like someone who had nearly drowned. Maybe she was drowning. She knew she couldn’t fight this anymore, couldn’t tell herself it was crazy and that she had far more important things to worry about. Right then, Alex was the most important thing in her world. If that was wrong, well, she’d face the consequences later. But she also knew she had to tell him the truth.

“Alex,” she said, once she felt as if she might be able to string two coherent words together.

He’d been lying next to her, holding her as the last of shudders had finished wracking their way through her body. Now he propped himself up on one elbow, dark eyes sharp and worried, as if he was expecting her to tell him that was all they could do, that they needed to stop this madness here and now. “What, Caitlin?”

“I — ” Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the back of her throat. No wonder, really, with the way she’d been panting. She sucked in a breath and started over. “I just — I need to tell you something.”

His mouth tightened. “What is it?”

Just get it over with!
“I’m a virgin,” she said simply.

He didn’t quite pull away, but she could feel him go very still. “You’re — seriously?”

“Is it that unbelievable?”

“For a girl as gorgeous as you? It’s kind of unbelievable.”

He called me gorgeous!
a part of her mind burbled happily, but she forced herself to say, “It’s not as if I really meant to wait this long. It just never felt right before.”

He watched her, eyes half hidden by the sweep of his lashes, thick and dark as his hair. Then, finally, “Are you saying this feels right?”

“Yes. Doesn’t — doesn’t it feel right to you?”

His expression softened, and then he was pulling her close, kissing her cheek, her neck. Once again he caressed her, his mouth warm against the sensitive skin of her breast. She shivered, let him touch her, explore her, his fingers moving deeper. But then he paused, murmuring, “We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to.”

She shut her eyes, made herself pull in a deep breath. Then she blinked and gazed back up at him, at the sensual curve of his mouth, the dusting of late-day stubble against the warm tones of his skin. Every part of him seemed so perfect, so uniquely Alex, that she knew she could never have said this to anyone else.

“I want to. I do. Make love to me, Alex.”

He let out a soft, soft moan, a deep, guttural sound that seemed to have come from deep within him. Without replying, he kissed his way down her stomach, moving lower and lower. When his tongue touched her, she had to grab hold of one of the pillows and grip it tightly to keep herself from screaming in pleasure. She’d heard how good that could feel, but she’d never let a guy do that to her before, make love to the most intimate part of her body, the touch of his mouth and tongue setting another series of those warm waves loose in her, streaming over her, until at last she let go of the pillow and knotted her fingers in his hair, convulsing against him as the orgasm struck her with the force of a tidal wave.

Then he raised himself on his hands, positioned his body between her legs. She could feel him pressing against her there, the heaviness of his arousal pushing her open just a fraction. Even that touch was so amazingly intimate that she let out a gasp.

Immediately, he stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She knew it probably would hurt some, but right then she didn’t care. All she cared about was having him inside her, joining to him in a way she never had with anyone else. Still, she wasn’t so lost that she didn’t forget to send the mental prayer to Brigid out into the universe, the one that would protect her from any long-term consequences of this time with Alex.

Blessed Goddess, now is not the time. Bestow your blessings elsewhere.

When her mother had first told her of the charm, Caitlin couldn’t help wondering if a witch saying it meant some poor civilian somewhere would still get knocked up instead. Now she knew the magic didn’t quite work that way. But it would protect her, and that was the most important thing.

“It’s — it’s good,” she went on. “Don’t stop. Please.”

That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed, because he pushed against her more. She could feel him sliding in, and there was a twinge, almost like a sharp tug, and then he was in her, all the way in, moving gently, as if he was still worried that he might be hurting her. To show him that he wasn’t — not really, anyway — she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer to her, then began moving with him, her hips rocking against his as they found their rhythm, moving together, their breathing speeding up.

Time didn’t seem to exist anymore. Nothing did, except Alex, his face above hers, eyes locked on hers in a kind of wonder, his expression seeming to say that he’d never thought they would come to this place, to this suspended moment where the world was gone and it was only the two of them, the push and pull of their bodies, the beating of their hearts, joining in a moment of perfect synchronicity, perfect harmony.

And then he groaned, his eyes closing, and she felt him pound into her as the orgasm hit him and he released, more warmth filling her as he came. She knew she wouldn’t, not this time; despite her reassurances that he wasn’t hurting her, she was a little sore. Just enough. But that didn’t matter, since he’d already made her come twice before now, and she was sure he would again.

He went still then, and ever so gently pulled out of her so he could ease himself onto his side. Dark eyes scanned her face, hesitant, somewhat worried. “Was that — was that okay?”

Caitlin leaned over and kissed him, tasted herself on his lips, and a new spasm of desire went through her, even though she knew she needed to give herself some time to recover before they tried this again. “Way more than okay,” she said. “It was perfect.”

Some of the tension seemed to leave his body then, and he smiled at her. “I’m glad. And — I’m glad I could be your first.”

Truthfully, she couldn’t imagine having done this with anyone else. In fact, the very thought made a shiver go through her. “I’m glad, too.” She paused, then said, “Although I think I’d better go get myself cleaned up.”

He nodded, and she gave him another quick kiss before getting out of bed and going to the bathroom, where she washed up as best she could. That did feel a little better. Odd that when she gazed at herself in the mirror, she didn’t think she looked all that different. Her hair was mussed and her eyes shining, but otherwise, she seemed to be the same old Caitlin.

Only she knew she wasn’t.

She went back out to the main part of the hotel room and slipped under the covers next to Alex. It felt bold to be sleeping next to him like this, wearing only her panties. But she was tired now and didn’t feel like rooting through her suitcase to find the tank top she slept in. Besides, this was better, in case they woke up in the night and wanted to make love once more.

Without hesitating, he reached over and pulled her against him, kissing her, but gently, as if he knew she needed to rest. Really, they both did — who knew what they’d be facing the next day when they went to meet with Simón Santiago?

“Comfortable?” Alex asked, and she nodded.

“Very.” She was, too; the bed seemed to cup every part of her that wasn’t nestled against Alex, and she thought she’d never felt so safe, so protected, so warm.

But as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help wondering if she was a terrible person for feeling so happy when her friends were anything but safe or protected.

W
aking
up next to Caitlin like that — well, it was nothing short of miraculous. All right, so she’d slept in his bed that one night after the first horrible vision she’d suffered, but this morning was about as different from that one as he could have imagined. For one thing, when he shifted and opened his eyes, squinting at the clock, she had snuggled closer to him, her bare breasts pressing into his chest. That had been enough to distract him from realizing it was already past eight o’clock and that they really should get moving.

They got moving, all right…into one another, her hands on him, urgent, wrapping around his shaft and stroking him, his fingers slipping into her, feeling how ready she was for him. He’d pulled off her panties so quickly, he was surprised he hadn’t torn them right off her body. Then they were locked together once again, a quick, urgent joining that was very unlike the gentle but intense lovemaking they’d shared the night before. Afterward, it seemed the most sensible thing to do was take a shower together to save time, although that might have been a slight miscalculation, considering the way they ended up clinging to one another yet again, her riding him while he sat on the floor of the bathtub and the hot water sluiced down over the two of them.

Eventually, though, they got out of the shower and finished the rest of their morning prep. As Caitlin was giving her hair one last flick with the brush, she asked, “Are we checking out before we leave?” Now that they were fully dressed and looking more or less like civilized human beings, Alex could tell she was a little diffident, not quite sure of how they should be interacting.

Well, that first “morning after” was always a little awkward, but he’d decided earlier that the best thing to do was act casual and hope she wouldn’t misinterpret his off-hand manner to mean that last night hadn’t been a big deal. It had been a huge deal…for him, anyway, and while he didn’t claim to be an expert on women, he thought it had been incredibly important to Caitlin, too.

As far as the room went, he’d also been wondering what to do about that. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “If we get the information we need out of Simón, then yeah, there isn’t much point coming back here, since we’ll need to get on the road back to Tucson as soon as possible. But if he’s not there, or he won’t talk to us, or whatever, it seems as if it would be kind of stupid to give up on the room and have to go someplace else if we end up being stuck in Pasadena for another day.”

She frowned, then shoved her hairbrush into her weekender bag and zipped it closed. “I suppose that is kind of a tough one. And I guess we have to decide soon, since it’s already ten and we have to check out at eleven.”

“And we haven’t eaten yet,” he pointed out. As good as all that sex was, it had taken something out of him. He needed some fortification before they went to see the head of the Santiago clan. No way was he making that call on an empty stomach.

In the end, they decided to take their luggage to the car, just in case, then eat and see how things felt. The hotel had its own restaurant, so it was easiest to eat there and keep an eye on the clock.

“We won’t need it,” Caitlin said abruptly when they were some fifteen minutes into their meal, mug of tea halfway to her mouth.

“Huh?”

She shot him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. A twinge. My gut telling me that we aren’t going to need the room. So I guess we’d better finish up here so we can check out.”

Was this what it would always be like — getting little promptings from Caitlin’s sixth sense or whatever it was? In a way, he supposed that was a good thing. Less chance of making a really heinous mistake. On the other hand, it would feel strange to have your life guided by some force you had no control over. No, that wasn’t right. Not really. It wasn’t as if her every waking moment was dictated by what her seer abilities might be sensing. They only seemed to show up for the important stuff.

And he probably shouldn’t delve too deeply into why he’d just assumed that her life and his would be entwined from here on out. They’d slept together, and it was amazing…way more amazing than the time his high school girlfriend had lost her virginity to him, since Amanda had seemed to view the whole procedure as an ordeal to get over with, her hands squeezed into fists and her face tight with pain as he cautiously entered her. With Caitlin it had been so different, he almost found it hard to believe that she really had been a virgin. Well, except how tight she’d been. That had made her virginity fairly obvious.

Anyway, it was sort of a big step to go from spending one night together to thinking it was only the first of many more nights. He hoped it would be, though. Of course he wanted this whole terrible mess with Danica and Roslyn wrapped up, but at the same time, he prayed there would be some way for this to end in a way where he could still be with Caitlin. The few days they’d been together told him he enjoyed being around her as a person, and last night had only shown him that they were just as compatible physically. He’d never had these thoughts about another girl. But Caitlin was different. Caitlin was special.

“Okay, if you say so,” he told her, since she was watching him, again with that one arched eyebrow, the one he thought was so adorable. “I’ll check out as soon as we’re done here. And then….”

“And then the Santiagos,” she finished for him. She didn’t look terribly overjoyed at the prospect, and he couldn’t blame her.

It might not be exactly the same as walking into the lion’s den, but it was definitely beginning to feel that way.

C
aitlin wasn’t
sure what she’d expected of California, but Pasadena, or at least this part of it, didn’t seem to quite fit. Yes, there were palm trees, but the beach was miles and miles away. And it wasn’t sunny at all, but gray and damp-feeling, as if the clouds above wanted to start misting but didn’t quite have the energy. Luckily, she’d packed a few tops with longer sleeves, just because she’d read that temperatures in Tucson could go up and down at this time of year, and she didn’t really want to get caught off-guard and end up freezing her ass off. Even so, she felt chilled through, in a way that couldn’t entirely be blamed on the weather.

The houses were beautiful, though, older, in a bewildering variety of styles — Spanish hacienda, Tudor cottage, colonial, all on large properties with lots of trees. This was obviously a neighborhood of people with money. Lots of money. It made sense, she supposed. The head of a clan always lived in a luxurious house, from the big Victorian up on Paradise Lane that had once been Great-Aunt Ruby’s to the sprawling adobe building where Maya de la Paz lived. Something about this area felt more intimidating, though. Maybe it was all the Mercedes and BMWs she saw on the streets…and was that a Ferrari cruising past, sleek and low and somehow menacing?

Caitlin didn’t know for sure. All she did know was that she felt woefully out of place.

Beside her, Alex looked relaxed and confident enough. Thank the Goddess for that. And thank Blessed Brigid as well that he’d been calm, easygoing this morning, not trying to put too much weight on what had passed between them the night before. Well, and this morning. Twice.

She winced and hoped that the evidence of their tryst wasn’t written all over her face. It had been amazing, and she knew she wanted more, but there was a time and a place for everything. She wasn’t sure last night had really been the best time for them to sleep together, but her body had overruled her brain on that particular issue. Now she and Alex shared some kind of bond, although she’d have a difficult time explaining what that bond exactly was. It couldn’t be love. Not so soon. Didn’t it take months and months to fall in love?

For some people, maybe. Actually, she’d always thought she was one of those people, someone who needed to spend a lot of time with a guy before deciding if it was worth going any further. For her, it had never seemed to be. But now she’d jumped into bed with Alex without even stopping to think it over. It was as if her body and soul already knew something that her mind kept refusing to acknowledge.

“Here we are,” he said, pulling over to the curb in front of an imposing Spanish-style mansion with an actual turret to one side, a turret with large windows that overlooked the street. You couldn’t see inside, though; the curtains were shut.

Caitlin’s hands suddenly felt very cold. She wished she could blame her chilled fingers on the gloomy gray day, but she knew they were only evidence of a spectacular case of the nerves.

Alex turned toward her. “You ready?”

“Probably not,” she admitted. “But let’s do this anyway.”

A flashing grin, one that sent an unexpected rush of warmth right to her core, despite their current circumstances. Then he undid his seatbelt and got out, while she followed suit.

A flagstone pathway wound up toward the arched front door. To either side of that door were terra-cotta urns with graceful drooping palms of a variety Caitlin didn’t recognize. They matched the house very well, but something about them felt cold and artificial, as if they’d been placed there precisely because they did go with the place and not because the people who lived there particularly cared for them.

Alex reached over and rang the doorbell. The sound of the Westminster chimes sequence echoed dimly within the house, and Caitlin held her breath, waiting. And waiting. She cast a worried glance up at Alex, and he gave the barest lift of his shoulders.

“It’s a big place. It could just take them a long time to get to the door.”

True. Or maybe they simply didn’t answer that door if they weren’t expecting anyone, in which case getting in might be even more difficult than she and Alex had expected.

After what felt like an eternity, though, the door opened slowly, and a pretty young woman around Alex’s age stood there looking at them with a half-startled, half-suspicious expression on her face. Caitlin could sense right away that the other young woman was a witch, and so that meant she could also tell that Caitlin and Alex were no civilian canvassers, out to tell everyone in the neighborhood about
The Watchtower
or the Book of Mormon.

“What is it?” the young woman asked.

Alex smiled — the sort of smile Caitlin thought should melt just about any heterosexual woman’s knees. The strange young witch seemed fairly impervious, however, and continued to stare at them, her expression not altering one whit.

The smile faded, and Alex said, “We’re really sorry to just show up like this, but there’s an urgent matter we need to discuss with Simón Santiago.”

She blinked. “And who are you, to show up on our doorstep and ask for such a thing?”

Our doorstep.
Caitlin wondered exactly who the young woman was. Simón’s daughter? Most likely. She didn’t know all that much about the Santiago clan, but she figured the
prima
must have had at least one child before she suffered the fall that put her in a wheelchair.

Alex’s smile returned, albeit somewhat more subdued this time. “My name is Alex Trujillo, and my grandmother is Maya de la Paz. This is Caitlin McAllister. Her mother is one of the elders of the McAllister clan.”

Once she’d been given these credentials, the young woman appeared to soften slightly. “Well….”

“Please. This shouldn’t take very long.”

A lift of her shoulders, and she said, “All right. You can wait in the living room. My father’s out in the greenhouse. I’ll go get him.”

She opened the door the rest of the way and ushered them in, then shut it behind them. They stood in a large foyer with a wrought-iron candelabra hanging from the twenty-foot ceiling. All around were expensive-looking antiques and Persian rugs, and on many of the tables were orchids in a dizzying variety of shapes and sizes. That must have been what the young woman meant when she’d spoken of her father being in the greenhouse. The orchids were probably his hobby.

Caitlin and Alex followed her into the living room, which was a cavernous space with a wood-beamed ceiling and an enormous fireplace surrounded in Spanish tile.

“My name’s Lucinda, by the way,” the young woman said. “Can I get you some water or something?”

“We’re fine,” Caitlin replied hastily. They were already intruding enough. She certainly wasn’t going to make Lucinda fetch them refreshments.

Alex nodded, and the Santiago witch seemed satisfied with that, telling them she’d be back in a few minutes, and to please have a seat while they waited.

“Wow,” Caitlin commented after what seemed like a safe interval had passed. “This place — it looks like something out of one of those old black and white movies my Great-Aunt Ruby liked to watch. You know, where all the women have that perfectly waved hair and slinky satin dresses.”

“Definitely old Hollywood. Or old Pasadena, I guess. But yeah, this place makes my
abuelita
’s house look like a mud hut.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Caitlin replied.

A shrug. “I don’t know. If my art history class hasn’t failed me, I’d say that’s a real Picasso hanging over the fireplace.”

She wouldn’t know a Picasso if it came up and punched her in the nose, so she’d have to take Alex’s word for that. What she did know was that this place intimidated her. It spoke of money that had been around a long, long time. Yes, the de la Paz clan had been in southern Arizona since before the territory became a state, but the Santiagos had come to Southern California with some of the earliest Spanish settlers. Their roots went as far back as the founding of Los Angeles itself.

Movement at the entrance of the living room made both Caitlin and Alex go still, and she looked up to see a tall, stately-looking man in his early sixties standing there, surveying them, his daughter standing directly behind him. Crap. Caitlin had to hope he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation, the casual way they’d been discussing the house.

Lucinda cleared her throat. “Father, this is Caitlin McAllister and Alex Trujillo.”

At once the two of them scrambled to their feet. Another man might have told them not to get up, but Caitlin could tell at once that the Santiago patriarch was not that easygoing. His dark eyes surveyed them coldly, and she thought she detected a downward twitch to his mouth when his gaze rested on her for a few seconds.