Sex and Trouble (7 page)

“Like my father? Are you saying that Ros killed him?” Mari heard her voice rise into an almost squeak of shock.

James just looked at her. “I cannot say that, Mari. I can only tell you that I am sure that the reason your father died is standing at the door to your house.”

A quick glance showed Ros holding the front door open. She allowed a mental giggle to relieve her. He looked for all the world like a forbidding older brother trying to scare off an overzealous prom date. She’d seen that same expression on Marcus’ face more than once when her teenage boyfriends had brought her home. Looking back to James, Mari took a deep swallow.

“If you give me that ring, Mari, it will make this easier.” His finger hooked the chain, pulling the object up into sight. “As I’ve said, it was supposed to be mine.”

Scooting away from him, she levered the handle. The car door did not open. Calling up a carefree smile that she did not feel, Mari raised an eyebrow at James. For a moment she thought he might not let her out. Then the tension broke as he shrugged. Another flick of his finger and the door unlocked. He did not get out.

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“You will forgive me if I do not walk you to your door. I have no desire to end as my parents did. Marielle, we will speak again about this. You must make a decision very soon.”

As she opened the door, she cast one glance over her shoulder. His eyes were back to that midnight blue. Suddenly she needed desperately to get to the safety of the house. Only rock-solid control prevented her from sprinting to the steps. Her shoulders tensed. Part of her expected him to appear in front of her like a vampire from a horror show. The car didn’t start so she imagined LaPierre sat there watching her.

When she reached the porch, Rosier stood back to allow her in. Brushing past him, Mari did not feel completely at ease until the door was closed and locked behind her.

Holding one hand up, she shook her head as she took a few steps away from Ros.

“Please. I am not in the mood for a lecture. I need a moment, okay?”

His eyes flashed with that inner fire but he didn’t speak. Her muscles relaxed a bit when she heard the sound of an engine followed by wheels churning in the loose gravel drive. Finally, she felt safe again.

A different type of tension grabbed her as she remembered just whom she had locked herself in with. The demon in her house moved toward her. This time her tension had less to do with fear and more to do with a tense warmth pooling between her legs. She needed to create some space between her libido and his body.

Rosier watched through the window beside the door until LaPierre put his car in gear and drove away. He could feel the magick leaking all around Marielle and desperately wanted to rush her into the shower to wash away that witch’s touch. Only the look of slight desperation on her face stopped him. Instead, Ros reached out to touch her elbow. Mari glanced at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she moved herself out of his reach.

“Well, that was fun… Not.” She started toward the stairs then stopped and faced him. “I still have a lot of questions.”

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“I’m sure you do.” Ros leaned back against the door, not moving toward or away from her, just watching her.

“Will you answer them? Will you answer me honestly?”

“Command, Marielle Greenlea. Give me a command and I must do as you say.” He hoped she’d ask the correct questions. Though he was constrained by Demonae law from offering any information about his dimension to those who meant harm to his world or people, he was compelled to tell her the truth if she so demanded because of the nature of the containment spell.

Mirroring his stance, she leaned against the newel post of the staircase. “Okay. I command you to tell me why you used my full name just now. Ja—LaPierre did that too. I know myths talk about true names. Is that what that is?”

Even though her body used the staircase for support, Ros could feel how tightly she held onto her control. He wondered if that control extended to bed and if that’s why her former lovers termed her icy. He knew he could melt that ice if given the chance. She’d commanded an answer. Fine. He’d give her one to emphasize how close to disaster she’d been tonight.

“When your name is used by another witch or magickal being, it can mean nothing.

Or, it can mean everything.”

He ticked off on his fingers the things a full name could be used for. “Love, demand, enslavement, murder, anything. Anything, Mari. Had his spell worked—and make no mistake—he was working magick on you. You stink of it. Had his spell worked, I would now be his slave.”

Ros paused. Her color had drained away leaving only those brown eyes wide and staring at him. Resisting the urge to wrap his arms around her for comfort, he delivered the coup de grace. “And you, Mari-girl, you would also be his slave.”

She drew in a shuddering breath but ignored the endearment again. “I get it. I took a stupid risk. But why didn’t it work?”

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Shaking his head, he responded. “I don’t know. It almost sounds as if your powers were already unlocked, on at least the first level.”

Like a terrier, she pounced on that statement. “I need to know what a key is and how I’ll know it when I find it.”

“A key can be anything from an actual piece of metal meant to open a lock to something as small as a strand of hair. You will know it because it will unlock your own magickal abilities and will lead you to the next key when used properly. Your father would have locked you away from your powers in stages. Did he give you a number?”

“No, he didn’t say a number…just several.” She wrinkled her forehead in thought for a moment. “So, when my father said the key would be in his, I mean my, bedroom, it could be anything from the bed itself to the spider in the corner?”

“Yes.” Though it went against the law of his kind to volunteer information, the way she’d phrased the question allowed him to answer. Ros sighed and continued.

“However, the first one will probably be something that meant a great deal to your father, or something he valued highly. I do wish the old bastard had been more precise.

A number would have helped.”

He watched as she pulled a slender chain out from under her blouse, cupping her hand over whatever dangled from it. “Something he valued highly?”

“Yes. Something that was given to him or something that was passed down in the family, perhaps. Then again, it might be a painting or a particular piece of clothing. I don’t know, he didn’t tell me his plans.”

“Hmmm.” The noise was noncommittal, but he could almost hear the wheels turning in her brain. “I command you to tell me how my father spent his days.”

“He studied, he read, he wrote in his journals, he interrogated me—you have that in common with your father—and he tried various spells and incantations.”

“Did he teach?”

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“Not for several years. After he bound me to this house, he turned all of his students over to other teachers.” Pausing for a moment, Ros let another truth bubble to the surface. “I don’t think he really meant to enslave me, to bind me to this plane. I believe his intent was different. Unfortunately I don’t know exactly what it was.”

“Ros, did you and my father ever have any calm conversations, anything that didn’t revolve around magick?”

“Yes and no. I wouldn’t talk to him about my world. I refused to give him any information that might allow him to call forth another Demonae or strengthen his hold over me. We did find a mutual appreciation of ancient magickal history though.” The conversation edged to close to unnerving him now. He didn’t care to tell Mari that her father had some decency. No way would he tell her he’d actually been a bit sad at the old bastard’s death.

He needed to escape—lose himself in some Aerosmith or AC/DC. For a demon, friendship with a human was strictly forbidden. So he and Augustus had never been friends. In the privacy of his own mind, he admitted that they’d not been bitter enemies toward the end of his time with the old man. LaPierre had been the real problem.

And he couldn’t let Mari spend too much time with LaPierre. It was just too dangerous for her. He’d told Augustus he would do that much for his daughter. At the time, they’d had a rousing argument about Ros’ refusal to guard the daughter of his captor. Why he should care now, he had no clue. She’d as much as told him she wouldn’t help him gain release, so why should he care about her tender human feelings? It hadn’t helped him with her father.

“Will you be seeing LaPierre again?” He bit the words out—angry at himself, at her, at the whole human-damn situation.

She paused as she gathered her hair up in a ponytail then let it fall. He made a mental note to play poker with her. She gave herself away every time. “No, I don’t think so. I honestly believe he was trying to force me into giving him not only this house, but everything in it. And I can’t tell if he is working magick on me.”

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“Yet.” At her startled look, he nodded. “You can’t tell yet but you will. Once you have the keys, your power will be fully unlocked. And unless I miss my guess, you will be more powerful than the old bastard ever hoped to be.”

“Ros, do you really think so?” Wistfulness colored the question.

“Of course I do. We need to find those keys. Your father’s considerable power resides in this house, every object here has some meaning in his magick. And of course LaPierre wants this house and everything in it, including you and me! He holds me personally responsible for the death of his parents even though I had nothing to do with that. He holds your father responsible for his lack of power, since he felt your father should have gifted him with more. LaPierre is a worthless, lazy bastard not worth a moment of your time or concern!” Ros had advanced on Mari until they stood toe-to-toe, staring straight into her expressive brown eyes, daring her to deny anything he said. She simply stared back, gripping the chain around her neck tightly.

A man could drown in her eyes. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed. He locked his eyes on those curves in an attempt to get away from her steady look. That helped nothing. He remembered how she felt beneath his hands. Her body quivering beneath his palms. An unfamiliar aching need rose within him, tinged with anger at her for putting herself in danger. At the thought of losing her, his stomach clenched. When he realized it was over her being harmed and not him being enslaved by LaPierre, he knew he had to create some distance.

Desperate he focused on her clenched fist where she held something. He caught the glimmer of one very familiar red stone. Letting his anger bleed out, Ros sighed. The lust didn’t fade as he put his hands on Mari’s shoulders. “You’ve already found one.”

“What?”

Her hand warmed beneath his as though their skin melded into one. He shook his head. This was not the time to give in to the urgent desire he felt for this human.

“Mari, his tiger’s eye ring. That has to be the first key.” Getting excited now, Ros covered Mari’s hand with his. Surely he wasn’t imagining that little jolt? But her 52

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expression never changed. Sliding her hand out from under his, she pulled the chain over her head then opened her hand. The silver ring he had seen her father wear on a daily basis rested on her palm. Ros knew better than to touch it without her permission.

He simply stared at the ring then up at the woman holding it.

“Tell me what happened at dinner tonight. Did LaPierre try to make you do something you didn’t want to do? Did he try to force you with his voice or touch?”

“I told you he used my full name. Yes, he touched me.”

The restless shake of her other wrist made Ros notice a darkening mark. He gently took her arm to examine the fingerprint-shaped bruises starting to form. Rage boiled up. It took every bit of his concentration to force his true self back down. Horns and claws could come later when he had James LaPierre by the throat. He would rip his heart out for touching his woman.

“I’m sorry. It’s the spell. It makes me angry when I see—” Ros bit back the truth from her and from himself. “My owner harmed. I am bound to protect you.”

He couldn’t deny the small flicker of pain in her eyes. Ignoring that, he pressed on.

“The ring, Mari. It’s a protection of sorts. It keeps others from causing you harm with a spell.”

At her startled expression, he chuckled. “Some spells won’t hurt you. They might irritate you, but they won’t do you any real harm. You should always wear your father’s ring. It will lead you to the next key.”

“It’s too big, that’s why I put it on the chain.” She slid a slim finger through the circle of silver to show him. Then she dropped it back into her hand.

Closing her hand over the ring with his own, Ros fought the intense need to pull her hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss there. Her scent was driving him crazy. He worked to concentrate his energy on their joined hands. Pulling strength from the earth beneath them, he worked his own magick. Mari gasped and tried to pull away. Energy flowed upward though his body and into hers. He held her tightly, not hurting her, but 53

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also not allowing her to escape. He denied his body’s demand even though he wanted nothing more than to crush her against him.

Finally he felt the telltale ebb of the energy that told him the working was complete.

He reluctantly released her hand then took the chain between two fingers. Unclasping the hook, he held both ends in one hand. Again he took Mari’s hand. Turning her palm up, he let go of one end of the chain so the ring slid into her hand. “Try it now.”

She looked at the ring then back at him. Sliding it onto her left forefinger, Mari started then raised her eyes to his again. “How did you do that?”

“I told you I have some magick of my own, Mari-girl.” Leaning forward, Ros kissed her, just a gentle brush against her lips. He knew he would have to move slowly, with this woman, but he would continue on his quest. He only had twelve days remaining.